Riding past, I realise how much shorter the distance has become. Has it been that long? 13 years. But that was also me then, sitting on the frame of Burong's mountain bike, cruising down the same route and yet in reminiscing, it feels as if I was a different person. I was younger, and I realise now, very much clueless, about the world and the whole scheme of things. Was I happier, knowing less? Very probable. The places have changed, some buildings gone, roads widened and diverted, yet in the swirly reflected surface of the pool of memory, I still see them as they were. And I hold these memories dear.