Of late, the musings have never once left out certain names, names you've read to ink in vague remembrance. And as you casually screen through this chunk of chewed words, you may notice a repetition of specific names. Well, what the heck. We all know that we love reading about happiness and sadness, all except the dull monotone of life's reports. We are in love with the crux of love's pitfalls because we relate to them and we empathise, so much so we place these written qualities into our own soles of shoes.

With the minimality of a clock down, the most favourable form of implicating joy is to spread it, like the rushing adrenaline wildfire of brave dives into ambiguity. The thin string of hopelessness diminishes so rapidly that it makes becoming cynical a harder task than imaginable.

There's so much to live and live happily for. My reason is my not so dark and not so bright future with him. As far as I'm concerned, today is the happiest I've lived in. I could kneel in plea no longer asking for more.

I have it all. I have solace.

Our very first home-cooked Western meal. He makes excellent steak.

(Haha) I forgot where we found this.

She looks like a rabbit here.

Discontented boyfriend and his very small plate of chicken rice.

After little-India-ing.

Our rare camwhoring moments, in the bus after our visit to Geylang Serai.

The man that moved me.