“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. ‘Pooh?’ he whispered.
‘Nothing,’ said Piglet, taking Pooh’s hand. ‘I just wanted to be sure of you.'”
— A.A. Milne (Winnie-the-Pooh)
This has been a lingering intention for some time – to pen down thoughts which deservedly belong to Equalia, and others which serve no consequential purpose. For it is recent that my mind has been taken up with Very Important affairs, assigned to the bleak category of law studies, banking regulation and insider trading inquiry reports (which are admitably periodically subjectively fascinating to this author, comments of which may occasionally plop to this sphere). And more and more Unefilleelegante had fallen prey to mild despondency which had taken hold of me since my departure of a beloved London. Sometimes I wish to write of very simple things, the kept 5% of my day which is uttered in impulsive, beautiful and unforgettable conversations with Beansprouts, that suddenly belongs in the realm of secrets, like a forgotten favourite earring dropped behind a dressing table.
To those within the secret numbers I count off with my hands, I have spoken of my favourite moments which materialize as ‘the shiver’ or ‘the inklings’ – the second before a play starts when you stare at the black space under the hot lights and see imagination dust dancing before your eyes; reaching a delicious state of epiphany in the middle of a Joseph Conrad book (wait, in a night with thunder under warm lavender sheets!) ; hearing a best friend wolf whistling miles away in a different character; the trills of P in the middle of a jazz improvisation piece – interrupting the grand, maddened Rachmaninov! I like to think these are not of the past and I am in the midst of creating new memories and secret fancies, even though I am far, far from Bloomsbury.
This is a decidedly delicious start – hopefully not doomed by office work or October’s law cramming month (the horror, Singaporean law cases with their Ho Kon Kims and Lee Gek Kims!). But in the midst of complex fiery ambitions, there has always been a comfort returning to decidedly simple ones, including the question of how many times I should feed my fancy cat.