The past that has not passed...
>> vendredi 24 février 2012
I was chatting with my most favourite kor-kor this.. urm.. this.. well, whatever you call the time at 3.39am.
And tibe² I terbuat ayat² poyo ini.
Boleh kot kan nak teruja dengan ayat poyo sendiri. (-_-!)
But it's true. I just can't help looking back to my past years in France. How 3 years wasn't enough. How I wanna revive those wonderful moments. How I let pass some precious moments. How I took some opportunities for granted. How I regretted some snapshots in wonderful places I could have immortalized but I did not.
My lovely home. The chattery old Mme. Daudan next door. The lovely old yet well-kept pavement and stone buildings along my way to uni. The greenery. The fresh air of the morning. The friendly and smiley handsome déchetiers taking off their caps saying Bonjour ! as they passed by in or clinging to their camion. The sweet and yeasty smell coming out from the bakeries. The sinfully delicious chaussons aux pommes and torsades. The quick kebab for lunch on a packed day.
The breezy air of early autumn. A mélange of vibrant colours on the trees. The flickers of lights at Christmas Markets. The aroma of the hot red wine. Admiring the shapes embedded by my boots into the fluffy and pure white snow while savouring hot churros dipped into chocolate sauce. Snuggling under my thick blanket on a snowy morning during weekend, knowing and somewhat feeling "assured" that Mr. Other Half is just snoring or watching Corneil et Bernie in the living room.
Breaking down and green with envy watching a couple kissing sweetly beneath the Eiffel in the rain. A fine evening with Mr. OH, all dressed up and glam cruising along the Seine River in Paris. The quiet walk hand in hand with Mr. OH by the Doubs River. Carefully avoiding those tiny little paquerettes and buttercups when having a stroll in the meadow.
The breezy air of early autumn. A mélange of vibrant colours on the trees. The flickers of lights at Christmas Markets. The aroma of the hot red wine. Admiring the shapes embedded by my boots into the fluffy and pure white snow while savouring hot churros dipped into chocolate sauce. Snuggling under my thick blanket on a snowy morning during weekend, knowing and somewhat feeling "assured" that Mr. Other Half is just snoring or watching Corneil et Bernie in the living room.
Breaking down and green with envy watching a couple kissing sweetly beneath the Eiffel in the rain. A fine evening with Mr. OH, all dressed up and glam cruising along the Seine River in Paris. The quiet walk hand in hand with Mr. OH by the Doubs River. Carefully avoiding those tiny little paquerettes and buttercups when having a stroll in the meadow.
In the nutshell, a huge part of me is still left in France. The life I could almost possibly not be able to live again. No matter how much I long for it.
Please dear God, give Fzah Ruslan another opportunity to go back there again and fulfil what she did not before.
Please dear God, give Fzah Ruslan another opportunity to go back there again and fulfil what she did not before.
Thank you for praying with me dear readers.
2 petits lutins en parlent:
Well, glancing behind you isn't such a bad thing...people do say that we can learn from history, don't they? Just don't forget to look at the future too...so that whatever you missed in the past, you can plan for the future. ;)
huhhurm. such words of wisdom.
well, i dont think i'm looking at my future tho. i'm just going with the flow and i just do what the currents are telling me to do and wishing hard i could go back to the past.
i think i need a psychiatrist.
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