A week has tide over and with the hovering heat blanketing the little island called home, it is ironically relieving to be able to numerate countdowns in bigger masses of numbers. If the following fifteen would be nearly equivalent to this, everything would form a flawless equation of perfect sense. Your voice seems to assuage accumulated inhibitions, as similar of that effect of morphine. The way you laugh always derives a particular delight in me and your smiles light mine up. It is surreal what magic you spell over me and my functions, as it is surreal that you are residing in another continent.

My days are fine and well, but all would be swell with you around. And if it's not too foolish to guess, my stubborn heart will love you until our continents collide.

My Neo Han Wei.