I didnt know that after two months' life in ACS I would still think of Crescent. Nostalgia was what I felt this morning, when I noticed that the bagpipe band was so shockingly different from crescentian band. I do not merely mean the instruments. The pure, sorrowfree, relaxed old times, they are not to be replaced. Still remember the time when I stood behind the young musicians taking photos of them, I was so moved, so touched, so overwhelmed by the piety expressed. Felt like crying, time after time, every single moment when I heard the Lion King music. Oh my fellow crescentians, they have powerful expressions, with the passion being their blessing. Youthful. Energetic. Confident. Upholding the belief that they can excel, and that they will excel. That's the portrait of my school mates, my dearest fellow crescentians.

But sometimes it is a cruel thing to look back. Retrospection is somehow associated with disillusionment and reality. You will have to realise that Time has always rushed past us, breathless, non-stop. I mean the two years. Gone, in an instant. Oh today I bought the new uniform, so it's really the time to say goodbye. To Crescent. The school where I used to feel so much at home. Felt sheltered. Crescent has never been exclusive. The sense of tolerance and unity is simply heartwarming. Cant help but smile when I recall the first time I saw the yellow and blue uniform. I used to think it weird. But now, it is no longer a mere slogan to say the colours are emblematic of the "pure and true" elements. And " zeal and zest". Yes. That's how Crescentians are. After O Level Lit exams I stood alone at the corridor and gazed at the palm tree. It was so green, how pure the colour was, and how soothing and blissful the tone. I could almost sense the sun rays dancing and vibrating with life, on the green green leaves. The greenest leaves. Anchored themselves in my heart, tenderly, profoundly. A nameless warmth and a sense of security whose origin is not identified. And, non-existence of loneliness, as if every single floating air molecule, although invisible, was a wonderful company. The silence was delightful. No more emptiness within. So full of unspoken joy. Those days in Crescent make me feel the urge to sing, to leap, and...to take photos.

Sigh. The PS. It used to make me so terribly reminiscent about Yesterday. Those were simply happy times. Nothing but happiness. Wandering about taking pictures buying Mcdonalds. Sitting at the table chatting with others girls clad in orange. Talking about things relevant or irrelevant. Candid shots. Should have a lot I think, but nowhere to look for. Wide angle lens. Used the paper bag as a helmet for Lily. Oh the beach, and the spider with long long legs which made me shiver with...well, disgust. That was our second last session, in the black May when I stepped off and the void began. We attempted to spot the alphabet, the twenty-six letters which make up life. Fun. Preoccupied. People knew that to me, in crescent nothing compared to PS, it made my life so rich. I was rooted, anchored, conscious about my identity of being a photographer, with unchangeable loyalty. No that's not enthusiasm. That's the longing for a shelter where the soul is very much soothed. But you see, the past tense has to be used to narrate those times. So, it went away, the same way you cannot keep Yesterday. For the current PS I love it instinctively, unconditionally, although saddened at first. Well, not think about it. I don't know if it is proper to say it is the centre of my school life, well the teachers won't be too happy about it. But emotionally, it seems true. Without it I might just transfer school (I have always been so wilful). One may say that is a form of entanglement, but I am willing to devote myself to it. Cant do without. As simple as this. I still feel a bit lost and disconnected now, but no more confusion. Its mere existence is enough, telling me that I do belong to it. No regret whatsoever. It seems ironic to me now that at the beginning I once thought of changing to a new CCA, but before I stepped into the audi I felt so tense (and speaking frankly, so sweetly tense as if going for a dating...)at the thought of the unknown PS. And the moment I saw the booth, I felt so comfortable I didnt want to leave it. Oh PS. It makes me feel settled, bringing me the calmness within. And strenth as well. It may seem to others that I am over-sensitive, but my love is incomprehensible to an outsider. The absence of such love will lead to the unbearable lightness of life. I am quite sure of this.

And I may be saying goodbye to my current history class. Which saddened me, unexpectedly. I didnt know I would feel so connected to this class, the people, familiar or unfamiliar, anyway difficult to be separated when it became a habit to see them. We'll miss you, the teacher said. True or not, it doesn't matter. But I know I am going to miss them. Indeed.

Con te partiro. Time to say goodbye, the duet of Bocelli and Sarah, it cant be more familiar to me. I have always loved it,but as this moment, it does not appeal so much to me as another song does. Everytime I turn around, and you're nowhere to be found. Things ARE like this. You have to put up with the loss. You have to experience the stormy or, at least, disturbed emotions. Still got a long long way to go, before I can say goodbye. Oh no, the melancholy.

Done. Finally created this blog. I admit that I'm perfectionist and still wish that it can be modified. But I am lazy. Just hope that it wont have such a short life span as my previous blog did. Existed for less than 30 hour I suppose. Well, it is possible that this one may also disappear at any moment. Let it be. But I love this template. The nostalgic tone it expresses. Reminds me of Time. 指隙流年。The years.

Oh the dreams I had these days. They are simply disquieting, disturbing. Deprived me of the peace within. I knew I am emotional and unreasonable sometimes, but the dreams still shocked me. I felt as if my hidden emotions were suddenly exposed and I just did not want to face them. Oppressed as if trapped. Which I hate most. Dreams are just dreams, I may calm myself down this way, but dreams do tell. They are wild, uncontrolled, as they live in a world of darkness, where I lose power--is it so? Or in that world where unrestrained spirit rules, I actually gain power. So much so that I can stare at myself, stare at my own thoughts and feelings. Do this without fear. So, that might be a truer self. Oh I am wordless. I dread it. I dread myself. I dread what I actually feel. Now I am much more soothed than yesterday. If this were posted yesterday, I do not how it would appear like. I might be babbling out those random thoughts as if traumatized. Smile ( as a sign of resignation?)

Anyway. Dreams ARE dreams. No physical wounds even if they haunt me. And actually no pain. Just feel confined.

Torres scored. Oh well. I have always been a peaceful and tolerant soccer fan, but I really cannot stand him. This is really unusual as I rarely view a Spanish boy negatively. Considering his nationality I would just express my discontentment through a sigh but.... I just cannot make myself like him. He will never be 金童。How cheap a word, nowadays so devalued by the media. It is true that he has speed, but not inspiration. And not leadership. I still remember how pale and helpless he looked in World Cup. I cannot get rid of this memory. Sigh. Don't tell me that he is still young and inexperienced. That's no an excuse. Look at Christiano. Don't tell me Spanish boys mature late. Look at my Cesc. Look at Iniesta. Don't tell me that he is a striker, different from midfielders. Look at David. Don't tell me that he is Torres and that I am not supposed to compare him with others. But he ought to play his role. Okay. He did well in the match against my RM. Congrats Torres. But my hopes don't lie on him. I just don't want to be disappointed after hopes are raised.

Yesterday Babie smsed me: Miss you. Didn't have time to reply then. Now I'm going to tell her about this blog.