Woke up this morning and laughed at Beauty and Beast over here. They’ve been on my shelf for eons but I never looked at them this way before… (Sorry, my weekend was filled with musical theatre and everything is a song to me now.) It kills me that the photojojo dinosaur looks so earnest while belle looks so scornful and grossed out.
I make my cup of coffee with less water, more ice, and stare at the plants beyond the kitchen as I stir. The heat is killer today, but I love how the sunlight hits the plants, and how it keeps the Bukit Timah monkeys from venturing too close to the yard.
Current rotation of books on my desk for the semester, though the pattern is always the same — poetry and short fiction compilations and Kerouac (for when I need to take a breather in between textbook readings), blank notebooks, textbooks new and old. I’m growing increasingly impatient with school and lectures that crawl along excruciatingly, but have been reminding myself that this time next year I’ll be wishing I was back in a classroom, tapping at my laptop and sipping fresh green apple juice.
The two ratty books in the left of the previous picture are actually two of a vintage 1950s photography series that Sam and I found in a Hong Kong flea market — we had to get the one with the scary cat, and the one with the finely dressed ladies on the cover. Some tips are outdated, but the photographs feel other-worldly and I wish I could frame each page:
As a child with very little working knowledge of the fast-forward option on the remote, I would patiently sit through the scenes of Rex Harrison making Audrey Hepburn work her way through tongue-twisters with glass marbles in her mouth, till she made her appearances at the races and the embassy ball. I’d sit there enchanted, scrutinising every ball gown, noting the slicked-back hair of the gentlemen, always wishing that our time had the glamour of theirs.