Photograph.

Source: womenreading.tumblr.com

Have you ever had a fleeting moment where you looked at a something and idealized everything that it symbolizes? Even though I identify a large part of myself with my book collection, I've never been one to romanticize the act of reading. Bookworms are not elitists, though many try to convince you otherwise. It's a preference. It's a gravitation towards a structured world of words. You either like it or you don't and you're still human either way. At least, that's how I see it.

I try not to associate fulfillment with materialistic possessions, either. So I was really taken aback when I looked at this picture -which isn't all that special once you start to dissect it pixel by pixel- and started to feel a sharp ache.

In that split second, I wanted the wicket chair covered in a Navajo inspired blanket. I wanted the russet brick house with a lancet arched entrance and a willow tree weeping beautiful olive-coloured leaves on my lawn. I can already imagine myself crazily reenacting 'Singing in the Rain' around that lamp post. I can already see the kind of books I'd read there.

I know all too well the dangers of methodically planning out a future. No matter how much you try to hold the reins, things never turn out the way you want them to. It might be the New Year goggles -it could be this need to fill a void that I've kept under wraps for the last 12 months- but my pictured future (if there is even a picture at all) looks a lot like this one.


Good night, 2011.

2011

It wasn't just my year, it was theirs. It was ours.

A Scattered Thought.

When my kids ask me where they came from, I'll remind them that they are made of stars. Before they fall into their serene slumber, they'll hear stories of how parts of them were cherry-picked from supernovas & neutrino speckled gasses; that their life began in meticulous fusions similar to the creations of heavenly bodies resting higher than the cookie jars on our shelves.

I will never let them feel insignificant.

I'd like to believe that our hands are made of recycled planets. Perhaps there were other life forms inhibiting those stars before their cruel explosions. Having alien substances interlaced in our genome would explain quite a number of things.
If this were true, maybe you'd find me a little less odd. Maybe the thought of holding my hand will finally cross your mind.

Hearts will never be practical, Tin Man.

If I keep trying to convince myself that you aren't real, maybe I'll finally stop imagining what it'd be like to have you around. Shouldn't letting go be easy when you're not holding on to anything?

Somehow it feels like I'm floating in a state of limbo. I'm tired of looking for traces of you (whoever you are...) in days, places, words, silhouettes; tired of feeling helpless the minute I do. I should know better than to rely on something as indefinite as chance.

I guess it's my fault for parading my heart's contents every chance I get. I can't help it. Patience has never been my strong point.

You're Okay

I live for the weekends.

Feeling happy enough for a webcam photo today. Hang loose, everyone.

Anchor

I'm usually one who brushes off marriage as (to put it lightly) a simple yet taxing way to put a king sized bed to good use - other than it's obvious purpose of sustaining the human race.

Today I found myself stranded in a newly revamped mall thanks to the mini hurricanes we frequently have the pleasure of enjoying in this charming tropical country. I packed a whimsically sardonic book beforehand so I did what I was clearly fated to do: get some pastries, sit my ass down and burn my tongue on some diluted coffee.

So there I was, completely shut off from the world when this kid -who couldn't have been more than a year old- suddenly came jetting past my table. It might have been my maternal instincts kicking in (not betting on it), but I was immediately drawn to this burst of energy gallivanting across the small bakery - which was overpriced like a muthaaa, but that's besides the point .

After what seemed like twenty laps, seventy air kicks and three hundred jumping jacks later, the kid retreated to the arms of an elderly couple. For the sake of my story, I'd like to believe that they were his grandparents and that he was not a product of a contraception slip up.

Old people sex...right, let's not go there.

This picture got me thinking. When these two were my age, had they imagined such a life? Arms entwined past the age of 50, crayons strewn on a table, stroller in check; holding a creation spawned from their very own offspring.

In the past, were they as jaded as I am now? Only interested in the wacky and impulsive side of companionship rather than it's long term sibling who has a stick up his ass and manages to suck the fun out of everything.

Much like the building I was in, I tried to examine parts of myself that had been smashed apart and rebuilt. I've kept it empty for a while; in fear of it collapsing from any emotional weight that might strain hidden cracks in my spirit.

Do I ever covet a lasting relationship and the insanity that it entails? Sometimes, more often than I dare to state but most of the time I'm just too cautious.

I gotta admit though, the three of them seemed downright happy.

Atlas Hands - Benjamin Francis Leftwich

I will remember your face
'Cause I am still in love with that place
But when the stars are the only things we share
Will you be there?

Out of place.

Last weekend it really hit me.

As a steady rush of sea water planted my feet in the sand, mother earth clung on to me like a child. For the first time in a long time I felt wanted by something larger than my being.
As I scurried heart first towards the ocean, I remember how in that instant the cerulean air greeted me and I had wished to be swallowed whole. 

As I watched the sky etched in colours that stirred symphonies in my soul.
Like clockwork, the moon and the sun exchanged private glances
as they traded shifts giving Sunday it's first hint of dark.

Vast roads expand exponentially around me as I lay so comfortably still in familiarity. The world demands my thumping footsteps yet I am so small. I cannot picture leaving. I cannot imagine creeping up to life and rattling its bones with my delusions of grandeur.

What I'm trying to say is this: I am not only a speck, not only a dot but -I say this with love- I am molecular.

Though I long to be so much more.

Trick or treat?

For Halloween this year, let's pretend.


I'll pretend that I'm not trying to stay afloat. That my dreams are aligned with the steps I take when I am awake. That I am not in love with trails of written words from an insomniac seeking refuge from bitter nights.

We're all so good at covering ourselves. Layer by layer we are swathed in paper-mache shells that crumble to the touch; a frail armour in which our beliefs are skilfully hemmed into.

So between the costumed comic and the person who wears her smile like haggard shoes, can you spot the bigger fool?

Collective Soul

Collective Soul - Shine (Cover)

If you were born in the 90s you'd probably know this jam. My dad & I used to sing along to this song in his car. I miss him.

Kehilangan.

Being lonely is frustrating. It’s one of those things you can’t talk about because you don’t want to seem fragile. Nobody wants to look desperate so we start believing in these idealistic half-truths about how we’re all better off without that extra hand to hold.

Suddenly time is your best friend and every single night there’s this ringing silence that you can’t get rid of.

What’s wrong with wanting a sense of fulfillment you know you can’t get anywhere else? Why can’t I just say that I want to feel loved?

Miike Snow - Animal (Cover)

                                            

Covered this on a whim. I couldn't get the lyrics out of my head.

We are beasts roaming in jungles of glass & concrete.

Sugar, sugar.

Yesterday night while we were (joyfully) drenched from the sudden midnight shower, a friend grabbed my damp shoulders, looked me straight in the eye and thoughtlessly screamed out one word: Life.

Right then & there, I swear I could hear the clickety clack of my mind over the deafening live music and frenzied cries of adoration. That was what my whole body had been trying to tell me all night. The heat in my eyes which I had hastily brushed off as product of fatigue. The funny way my heart went wham & bam along with the booming drums like it had something to prove. How my legs kept twitching about like they were separated from my upper body. The way my hands begged my brain to seize the hand of the nearest festival-goer so that I could feel their fingers pulsing with the same adrenaline that flooded the underside of my sweat-stained flesh.

It was a moment of infallible certainty. I felt alive. Not just the breathing in & out, routine part of life that I was wholly accustomed to; far from it. I felt life's underbelly, it's mystical cousin twice removed, the width & breadth of life's infinite spectrum; with my rain-soaked hair (also one of the best feelings in the world, but we'll get back to that later) and my clothes sticking to me like second skin, I felt it.

And from now on, I'll always have a permanent itch to feel that way again.

We are made One with what we Touch & See

And we two lovers shall not sit afar,
Critics of nature, but the joyous sea
Shall be our raiment, and the bearded star
Shoot arrows at our pleasure! We shall be
Part of the mighty universal whole,
And through all Aeons mix and mingle with the Kosmic Soul!

We shall be notes in that great Symphony
Whose cadence circles through the rhythmic spheres,
And all the live World's throbbing heart shall be
One with our heart, the stealthy creeping years
Have lost their terrors now, we shall not die,
The Universe itself shall be our Immortality!

-Oscar Wilde

This could be something.

 

Esok kita akan mengharungi hari yang baru. Jangan bersedih. Selamat malam, dunia.

Knock, knock.

When I struggle to slip out of consciousness, inching towards permanent psychosis, I make a run for God's sharp shoulders.

Here's one thing I've learned about God: He's just like every  strong, silent figure. He'll cross his hands and let me wonder if it was strength that lead me back to Him; or if it was the inconvenient vulnerability that I stubbornly stash away on the highest shelf, deepest crook & filthiest corner of my subconscious. Heaving sobs don't always bring Him to my doorstep, but each time I turn my back on Him, His thunder knocks on my bolted door and His rays of light tiptoe their way under the crevice to warm my icy feet.

And here's one other thing:  there's a door glued shut between God & I. I'm constantly leaning against this allegorical plank, screaming at a wooden wall and always thinking that the quiet calm on the other side is just God being his strong, silent self.


My days have turned into a comfortable routine of celestial loneliness. Only His sharp shoulders & I.

Third one today

My first semester as an undergrad is reaching it's lengthy end and what have I learned so far? Plenty. The one that amuses me the most is probably my newly acquired ability to shut off my brain when thinking is absolutely essential. Dexterity without control, that is. I introduce to thee, my brain, lads and lasses.
As expected, it's got nothing to do with my future line of field. But who's to say it won't come in handy? Even engineers need office clowns.

I've also involuntarily trained myself to withstand severe solitude from both the XXs and the XYs. For now I'll shrug it off and force myself to do another set of notes for my quiz on Wednesday. Not like I have a choice. Four more years of this lifestyle and you might have to stop me from stepping foot into high rise buildings. Just strap me to a bed, if all else fails.

Hm, that came out kinkier than it should've.


As soon as the lights in my mind flicker and my mind moths dance about, I'm going back to bed with Tom. Jitterbug Perfume was this crazy fiction explosion and I have really high hopes for this one. He might just be my new favourite fiction writer. I swear, this guy's really giving Neil Gaiman a run for his money.

Spend your Tuesday wisely, wisecracks.

Fools will be fools

This crooner's got my tear ducts a'flowin so early in the a.m. I may have found myself a new sad anthem.

...and so my heart became feather light

As of today

 

3 main joy generators:

1. I bought a beautiful loaf of maple berry wholegrain bread today which further validates my new/not-so-new pledge to consume more belly-friendly food. Plus, it has a purple tinge and I go googly-eyed for pretty colours; a trait that has landed me in financial trouble quite a number of times. Meh.

2. Upcoming festivities(!) marching into my life after what seems like eons of being mashed up like a potato in an unpleasant mixture of exhaustion and incessant loneliness. Feeling like a solid tuber now!

3. Because you're sexy and you're reading my blog.

Gum

Hip hop's always been my 1 minute bubble gum break from the world. Lyrics that make my tongue twist in loops, encumbering any sing-along fits in the car so I'm forced to sit and listen; which is (ironically) a rarity in my collection of music.  Lately I find myself fussing about everything, I'm distraught most nights (losing focus, to be precise) and all I want is something I don't think I should have, nor am I going to have for a long time.

I'm moving backwards. These desires feel so foreign yet they greet me like wafts of a familiar scent that I can't entirely put my finger on. Here's to hoping that this is just another phase.

Stupor

My happy place is a parking lot. I'm driving my Mom's old Nissan with the windows rolled down and the air is crisp, winter-like. There's nothing around me except acres of tarmac. There's also a funny-looking mountain jutting out in the backdrop just to remind me where the road ends and where the rest of the Universe begins. All I have to do here is drive and make sure that I reach the foot of the mountain before the cosmos align, after which I will become a tiny blip in Earth's history. My foot on the gas, I giddily steer.


I've been a frequent driver lately; with friends leaving the country soon, my University dragging me into the mud and a dating life brought to a complete standstill, I can't think of any other means of escape.

It's about what you don't see

Caught in the act of nail-biting. It's not that gross once you realize that it's just a subtle form of cannibalism. Right? Not gross at all.

Stu, this is for you

A friend of mine is living proof that when things go really bad, it just means something really good is on its way.

Congratulations, dude. You deserve this and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Can't wait to listen to all of your adventures once you start flying.

Cardinal directions

Don't tell me I'm lost when I don't even know where I'm supposed to go. When my eyes failed me, I used logic to guide me to the north but my heart can't tell east from west. Besides, maps can only guide you if it's written in a language you know. So tell me; is it geography or geometry if I walk around in circles, begging for scraps from a king who lusts for something stronger than life? What do I do when all I can offer in return is a better judgment of the trodden paths leading into the mighty hills that seem to point at Pushpaka chariots nestled between cirrus clouds? Release me from my dukkha and I will dissolve in the reds and tangerines of the orient. For you, sire, I will walk on brick roads as yellow as aragvadhas, follow the second star on the right and go straight on 'til morning.

*********************************

I was taking photos of the intricate murals in the Phra Borom Maharatcha Wang (Grand Palace) when I suddenly realized that I'd drifted a little too far from my family members. This lead to the thought of me getting lost in the bustling metropolitan city of Bangkok with nothing but an old messenger bag and really sweaty leather Converse shoes. I think this post is about love, it could be a bunch of other things too. It's 1:00 a.m and I'm running on leftover sticky rice pudding with mango. Bangkok's really gotta hold of me.

Ray LaMontagne - Let It Be Me

Dah. Cukup lah sedih sedih. Tak larat. Penat benci diri sendiri. Malam macam ni lah kena dengar lagu lagu melankolik sampai tertidur. Susah betul kawal emosi malam malam buta ni.

The fat girl wants to say something

I don't think people in the past had ever felt the degree of my generation's low self esteem. We're bombarded with images upon images of photoshopped perfection every waking hour through mediums that didn't even exist half a century ago.

Not to mention all of the contradicting ideas dispersed by advertising companies that just make me want to drive a stake through my eye.

"YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL JUST BY BEING YOU....BUT YOU TOTALLY NEED THIS SHAMPOO & A BOTTLE OF DIET PILLS."

I'm sick of feeling like I'm incapable of being loved because of the way I feel about myself. I'd go so far as to say that with the way I look I can't even imagine being treated the way I know I should be.

Gregorian

Kissing
Is a kiss still a kiss if it feels just like this? Like a strong undertow past my small cupid's bow? Can it turn into song if we go on too long? Show me ways to align, dual tongues creep like vines. Vapor heated commands, steady dancing of hands. Close your eyes but don't miss when it's over tell me this: will my kiss, then, be missed if I kiss you like this?

Tugging
Your song is on a constant loop. I dance to it on still winter nights as it plays in my mind with unyielding vigor. My feet tap tap taps the cold hardwood floor, replicating the steady beat. I'll never stop. I am your doe-eyed wind-up singing-dancing puppet doll, mein meister. Love me, abuse me, pull my strings, hold my steady wooden hand. I promise we'll never stop.

Running
You can't run when your feet are cement blocks and your heart is a cargo train chugging 25 tonnes of black coal right up to your eyes and the way it burns violent flames, it shows, no iridescent glow, no sparks just pupils of black liquid gold You can't run if your mind is an ephemeral land, sometimes swallowed by sea, at times swallowed by sand, or a dull, flat plane ending only at a nebulous line that divides the earth and sky I am standing so still I can hear my knees turning into jagged stone

I just had to!

Things I love about my new room:

That birdcage lamp & the ironically cheerful blue wall

This neon coloured Egyptian picture I bought during my Penang trip. Saya pula saja nak sibuk.

MY ZEBRA PRINT BATHROOM DOOR. MADNESS.

7 months in a lively city had its perks but right now it just feels so good to be back in this quiet suburban town. Good night & hang loose.

Jessie Ware & Sampha - Valentine

Chainsaw Accident

The picture you are about to see is not for the faint hearted





You ready?

I have a hole on my finger. But the blood oozing out of my crater makes me a hundred times cooler than the moon. Just so we're clear here, I didn't really get into a chainsaw accident... It might have been a bear attack. You can take a wild guess at the comment section, if you're up for it.

My nails will tell you all you need to know

I feel so ugly. Outside and inside. Ugly right down to the core. Like there's nothing under my skin but dirt and piss. This thing I see in the mirror, it's not human. It's not even alive. I take up so much space in this world, what am I still doing here?

When will this stop? I just want it to stop.

Love Junk

Last night my flat mate & I had a long, overdue heart to heart talk. As we were frivolously discussing the extent to which love had screwed us up (no need to guess who was dominating the conversation), she started talking about her strained relationship with her boyfriend.

The two make a manic pair, to put it mildly. I've always felt like their relationship had a shot of tequila in it. And whenever they fought, it was as if they had thrown in the whole bottle into the equation; but I digress.

At one point, her eyes were facing the ceiling (we were lying on the bed) and she just went into a trance. Her words were just... floating in the room. The weirdest thing was how the cheerful sound in her voice was conflicting with the tears welling up in her eyes. She kept saying how all she wanted to know was whether her presence made an impact in that boy's life. It was kind of beautiful.

I wrote in my journal a couple of days ago, asking God to talk to me. I know it sounds silly but I think that was it. Just that line about making an impact in someone's life. I've been focusing too much on how I want someone to make me happy that I forgot about my end of the deal.

Maybe I need to wait     just a little while longer.

Bacteria Invades Cyberjaya

Night out with the half-bloods. We get excited over froyo because there is nothing else to get excited about in this sleepy town.

Although sometimes we do get terrific storms.

Amos Lee - Keep it loose, Keep it tight

Sometimes we forget what we got,

Who we are...and who we are not.

Things I did not say out loud today

a) Why is there a hurricane in my uterus & why is God punishing me for not getting knocked up?

b) A balloon is a really neat way of packaging Helium gas.

c) Hello Mr. Policeman, sir. Take no notice of the sandwich in my mouth. When I don't give in to the glutton gnome living inside my stomach, I'm actually a really good driver.

d) Ya Allah, boleh tak sekali sebulan nak jadi lelaki? #menstrual cramps.

e) Maybe if I stare at this bird long enough, it'll start braiding my hair like in the movies. Hollywood always gets the best birds.

f) I wonder how much Lynda Carter got paid to twirl in a Wonder Woman costume. Bet she didn't have to take Field Theory classes...

Sigh, nak tukar kerjaya...

Sunday

Pilgrimage

Have you ever been knee deep in thought, questioning the total amount of control that you have over your life? Back then I was always chasing an intangible future while my past was leashed on to my thought patterns so tightly that all I got out of all the running were psychological rope burns.

It's easy to embrace happiness but it's that gratifying feeling we get after dwelling over darker thoughts that keeps us chained to sadness. People go out of their way to incorporate a manic depressive edge to their personality because depression is mistaken as a part of genius & creativity. But I've learned (the hard way) that being miserable doesn't get you respect, attention nor will it generate any sympathy from the people around you.

I can't say that I'm cheerful all the time now but I am making a conscious effort. Besides, I'm just way too young to be fed up with life. I'll save that for when all my teeth fall off and I lose my ability to bite bright shiny objects.



Mmm, shiny.

A note to my future self

As far as the Universe is concerned, my loony lunar love, your heart is just a tiny atom.

Kings of Leon - Pyro

Messages to a ghost

Something I wrote/drew in an empty tutorial room in between classes. Without Word's spell-checker I am nothing.

Cheesy. Queasy.

Me: Hey, would you mind if we teamed up for the Circuit Theory assignment? I don't really know anyone in this class...

Class mate: A pretty girl is asking me to partner up with her for an assignment; why would I say no?




....quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Put aside the fact that my looks are nowhere near perfection, (I'm probably somewhere along the lines of mediocre, that is to say I can scare children if I pull a face but my bum still brings some of the boys to the yard) what he said still made me feel 10kg smaller and 6 feet tall.

Nice guys will always come first in my books.

Midnight Happy Thoughts

It's funny how my writing has this cynical and gloomy undertone to it when in actual fact, I'm this dork who laughs with her head tilted back and her mouth wide open. You would shit crayons if you knew how giggly I am outside of this computer screen. Writing about the strange and remarkable spectrum of emotions just comes naturally to me. When I turn off my computer and return to the real world, I'm actually really silly.

See? Only silly people finish their sentences with a triad of l-l-y's.

This blog isn't a stab at my subconscious either. I'm getting a little too old for Freudian-esque analyses of my thoughts and actions. I just like being a different persona online. I'd like to think that the internet is this cosy little place where everyone gets to play pretend with a bunch of other grown-up kids. Maybe that's the appeal. It is for me, anyway.

I'm not emotionally distraught on the inside. A little bit, perhaps. Nothing too major. Everyone needs to stop associating blogs/micro-blogs with people's personalities. It's the internet. The birthplace of LOL-CATS and rick-rolls. I really can't stress this enough.

Merriment

It appears that I've gotten myself into a delicate situation. After playfully suggesting that I'm up for any kind of hooplah, I've successfully become the subject of an experimental date. The way I see it, I have two options:

a) I can back out now and just nip this brutal cycle in the bud.

OR

b) I (wo)man up, show up and see if I can manage to keep my head screwed on tight for an hour or two.

I'm this close to whipping out a coin to test the odds, but something tells me that I should save it for tomorrow morning. Sundays are meant for time-outs and introspection.

Note to self: Never joke around with Myra again. When she says she'll deliver, she most absolutely will deliver.

Snow Globe

I need to sleep. For now I lie awake in a makeshift reality that’s made up of reincarnated memories of a life once led by a girl, who tried -but failed- to hold rays of sunlight in between her fingers. 

Through her eyes I see words crisscrossing in the air as they flee the lips of strangers, lovers, comrades, allies; some of them bind to my skin like blood, others course through the nicks of time like water. Every day I pick up a transmission of signals from her past forming meticulous shapes of the earth and the sea. In this body, I move in directions predetermined by her specter. In her body, I feel her phantom spine coiling around my heart. 

I need to sleep to relieve her grip. My eyes close but just as I’m about to turn the knob and swallow the key and roll up my socks and jump over the gate my mind runs wild

so night
after night
after night
I dance with her ghost in dimly lit dreams.

Do you ever wonder how I would have turned out had I not been sheathed in her meat and bones?

Come Away With Me

My name is Emilia and I make covers when I want to say something to a person indirectly.

Norah Jones, you make me believe in the weird and the wonderful.

If one of us makes it big we can spill our regrets

Remember when we listened to this song the first time I sent you to the airport? I found it just days before you left and knew instantly that it would be one of the few songs that would stick with me for a really long time. Now, 2 years after that first send off, this song still has profound meaning.

I still don't want to believe that I was capable of hurting you as much as I did. We had a complicated relationship but you were my best friend, above all else. I don't miss what we had but I do miss you.

This will always be your song.

Crescent

Mustafa Akyol: Faith versus tradition in Islam

In my country, segregation of sexes is still very much alive in the Muslim society. I don't know what it's like in KL but it was practiced (lightly) in my school. I never had the nerve to question it because I believed I was not educated enough in Islamic philosophy to do any disputing -although I never understood how standing next to a boy could fuel any physical urges.

Mustafa Akyol makes a great point on how people easily confuse tradition with the core beliefs of Islam. The lines are beyond blurred here in Malaysia and nobody gets to say anything lest they end up on the front page of a newspaper declaring defiance of a fatwa.

To say that I've struggled with my faith would be putting it lightly. I maybe steering off topic a little bit here but the education system imposes a very straightforward kind of thinking which unfortunately gives no room for young Malaysian Muslims to debate or contradict our textbooks' version of Islam. I believe that religion is very personal and subjective. Ideologies should be open for interpretation and examination, not shoved into our throats with hopes that we'll continue preaching what has been blindly taught to us.

If you disagree with anything I've had to say, I respect that. I didn't write this to force my beliefs on anyone. You are your own person; you don't need a 19 year old to tell you what you should or shouldn't believe. The video is a 17 minute talk but if you've read this until the end you might be interested in what he has to say.

3 things I know to be true. (Inspired by Sarah Kay's TED talk)

1. When I travel I always remember that whatever I see won't look the same the next time I see it. The bigger picture will probably stay the same more or less (the roads, the statues, the historical landmarks) but the sun won't shine in the exact same way.  The sounds I hear will be erratic melodies that I'll get to hear only once in my life. In a way, I think the same goes for life too. Everything I know (including this list) and everyone around me is susceptible to change - whether large or small.

2. If your heart burns merciless fire it only means that whatever you're doing, you're doing it right.

3. Condiments packed in those small plastic packets taste better than the bottled ones. There's no philosophical meaning behind this one, it just tastes gosh darn better for some inexplicable reason. I have a small box full of stolen sauce packets in my kitchen for late night burger chow downs and sandwich breaks.


Signing off this post with Death Cab's new song. I've been listening to it all night. Forgive my shameless fan girl-ing.

There Were No Coconut Trees

 

Location: Pulau Pinang, Malaysia.

Mission: Spend 3 carefree days eating and exploring.

Results: Tanned skin and 800 digital images. Oh, and thigh burns.