Shakespeare Hates Your Emo Poems/ so reads the shirt.

So we reach Saturday where I sluggishly get out of bed roudabout noon, and somehow Saturday always seems to have different air about it, a certain feel, of indolence. The weekday hubbub at the construction site across the river has ceased, the dinosaur machines are all asleep, with the workers all out at Serangoon Road, Beach Road or thereabouts, and the midday breeze coaxes patterns on the large blue tarpaulin sheet spread over the hill of rubble in the centre.

It is bright and sunny, the kind of picnic sunny and I have to fight back thoughts of her and recollections of our picnic in the Botanic Gardens (Lou Reed's Perfect Day starts playing in my head), I focus my attention to my sore right foot, an affliction from yesterday, my futsal session  with the teachers at the School sports hall, Weiming came over to join us from Bartley, it was a good workout, fun and a good way to get to know my colleagues better. In Myanmar people are dying for their ideals and I should rightly be ashamed of myself for being lazily emo. 

 

John Wayne Gacy

These were taken on Tuesday - Fish Eye Lens are such fun.