I fell in love with Rybczynski's film the first time I saw it in New Media Art class. Imagine, to me, was more than just the mutability of an image that has revolutionised the art scene. No, it went deeper than that.

I saw the growing up of an innocent young girl with a clean and unwounded heart. Gradually exposed to the ways of the world, she transformed from a child riding her charming white rocking horse to a woman incomplete and lost in the vices around her.

I have loved this piece of art ever since. It made its point so subtly, but yet it touched me in such a beautifully poignant way.

*

I went running today.

(Yes you, who were probably frolicking in the crystal-clear waters of krabi, I finally went running today.)

It was a nostalgic experience, to say the least. I dug out my JC sports wear and put on socks that I haven't worn since I-don't-know-when. I found the sports watch that I used to wear to school, and realised it had been on timer mode since I last left it. Which was, probably, years ago.

It was an uneasy feeling when I realised that this watch had been timing my whole life quietly for the past year or so. It was as if I had been secretly documented all this time as I went about my tiny room combing my hair, flipping my notes, or clearing my clothes.

I feel like this watch now knows all my deepest darkest secrets, all that has been going on in the quiet of my room. And I am almost obliged to bribe it not to spill everything out. It's like it totally did what it was meant to do. It watched.

*

I ran because I wanted to train perseverance and strength. I wanted the feeling of being able to take on a whole new day, I wanted the rush of endorphins in me. So I ran.

I ran past the postman doing his daily rounds, I ran past a lovely house I never noticed before, I ran past old colonial shop-houses that, against the azure blue sky, looked like an image out of a postcard, I ran past a field that reminded me of the cornfield that Suzie Salmon was murdered in in The Lovely Bones, I ran past a caucasion couple cuddled next to each other outside their house just watching the cars drive past, I ran, I ran, I ran.

But I couldn't run for long. There was no one beside to motivate me when I got tired, no one to cheer me on when my muscles started to protest, no one to assure me when my lungs felt overworked. I just couldn't do it on my own.

So I made a turn for home. I reached home, turned on the fan, and fell onto the sofa. I lay there until I could no longer hear my heart pounding in my ears, until every bead of sweat evaporated, until life was back to normal.

I didn't feel any more alive than before I went for the run. I didn't feel like I had more energy to say 'bring it on'. No, I didn't. Instead, I was stricken with a throbbing headache and a sick feeling that made me want to puke.

And the morale of the story: Doing the right thing at the wrong time is still, not quite right. I really shouldn't have gone running in the sweltering heat at 3pm in the afternoon.