My poetry entries have been interrupted by entries about friends.
I also met up with another dear old friend (I like very much your description of me as an old friend, thank you) on Sunday.
We ate, walked and talked; it felt so right. We ate Taiwanese beef noodles and drank bubble tea. After that, we walked around, looking for a place to have some dessert. It was a cool night.
The gods were not with us. The cafe at the National Museum seemed closed and the Killiney Kopitiam was also pitch-black. So we went to Zion Road hawker centre. My friend had hot milo and I wanted to have soya bean dessert but, of course, the stall had only chin-chow left. So I resigned myself to drinking hot milo.
My friend was facing the TV screen at the hawker centre and there was a charity event on. Those who sang on the 881 soundtrack appeared. I made a mental note to buy the soundtrack.
We got to talking about many things (life, work, poetry, night, church, God, sin and grace among them), of which my friend said six words about Christianity which I immediately penned down in my black journal.
I always count it pure joy for such rest and company amid the hustle and bustle of the city life. A precious moment.
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