Because I have been careless and I have deleted the pictures from Photobucket meant for Simon, I apologize, Simon, and I will soon find a worthy replacement.


Congratulations, O-Level result receivers. I'm happy all the waiting is gone and all the work has paid off.
Its time to start anew.


And, speaking of starting anew, yes, my dear Simon, I have to start anew. Just like how you're gonna get a new skin on your birthday, Michelle needs a whole brand squeaking clean new attitude. Almost squeaking clean.

Today has been pretty much jubilant, and yet exhausting. Perhaps it was a preconception, or, should I say, pre-misconception that occurred, and has tarried thus far - but now the burden is unladen, and though I tire from the experience, I thank you.
I thank you all.

My victory dance is not ensued, and there are some who may not relish their victory dances, but will admirably fight forward and emerge with victory dances, possibly more colourful and vibrant than the ones churning presently.

I am no mood for this.
I am in no absolute mood to understand, because I cannot, and to pretend that I do would be doing an absolute disfavour. But here comes to me, that there is no use crying over spilt milk, and though the bitter aftertaste of defeat lingers, it is still time to move on. Because it is time to be strong, and clear up the remnants lying around, and start anew.


Tasked, I cannot help but worry. Management may still prove a problem, and I require sufficient rest. But I am calm, and I am grateful, and I probably don't make sense.


Streets of London

Have you seen the old man, in the closed-down market
kicking up the papers, with his worn-out shoes?
In his eyes you'd see no pride, hand held loosely by his side
yesterday's papers, telling yesterday's news

So how can you tell me, you're lonely
and say for you the sun won't shine?
Let me take you by the hand,
and lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something, to make you change your mind

Have you seen the old girl, who walks the streets of London
Dirt in her hair, and her clothes in rags?
She's no time for talking, she just keeps right on walking
Carrying her home, in two carrier bags.

So how can you tell me, you're lonely
and say for you the sun won't shine?
Let me take you by the hand,
and lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something, to make you change your mind

In the all-night cafe, at a quarter past eleven
same old man sitting there, on his own
Looking at the world, over the rim of his tea-cup
Each tea lasts an hour, then he wanders home alone

So how can you tell me, you're lonely
and say for you the sun won't shine?
Let me take you by the hand,
and lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something, to make you change your mind

Have you seen the old man outside the Seamens mission
memorie fathing, with the medalreabbons that he weares
In our winter city, the rain cryes little pitty,
For one more forgoten hero, and a world that doesn´t care

So how can you tell me, you're lonely
and say for you that the sun doesn't shine?
Let me take you by the hand,
and lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something, to make you change your mind.


The aura of languid splendor.