I wonder how long this wall behind the lanterns has stood. How many rains it has weathered, how many episodes it has witnessed. I wonder if each streak of dirt on the wall carries a different story behind, and I wonder how many more festivals it is going to commemorate.

*

I used to love wearing halter-dresses as a little girl. Bare-back, I would call them. My auntie, blessed with an ability that could easily command her army of needles, cloths and threads, would sew me these precious pieces of clothing. I remember I had a white one with colourful floral prints. That made me very happy.

As a little girl I had my perfect house all planned out after reading and falling in love with Alice in Wonderland. I decided that when I grew up, every door in my house would be a different shape. One would be heart-shaped (I suspect that was my decided bedroom), one would be circle-shaped, and perhaps another would be star-shaped. I recall my little heart fluttering in excitement as I closed my eyes and envisioned opening the heart-shaped door and crossing over with my tiny legs.

I was certain I would love the idea for life, even after I grew up. Not quite, I guess. Growing up is about the most elusive thing one can ever encounter.

*

I used to burst into town after my exams and embrace the endless possibilities of movies, shopping, and food. 2 weeks ago found me at Borders after my last paper, eyebrows furrowed and head bowed as I lost myself in a compilation of extraordinary stories from a magazine.

Not far from me, a middle-aged man made his unhappiness known very audibly.

"I can't believe Borders doesn't have books on similes and metaphors. I am very insulted.

This book store should be called don't-border."

This is the kind of wit that sends a rush of tingling excitement through me and leaves me tickled with amusement for a very, long, time.