We all secretly yearn to be in a story. That is why we like them so very much. We like it so much. We even imagine we are some how part of the story… Or maybe we just see ourselves as the various characters in a movie by identifying with either their quirks or whatever they are facing. Often we do this without even realizing it….substituting ourselves for the characters in the story. We even believe that we can understand the challenges the characters are facing…. because we are convinced we know ourselves.

This is what I call the necessary deception of every good story….it actually makes it easy for the audience to slip out of their own skins into that make belief outer shell like slip slippers one finds in hotels.

Truth is. We are actually clueless about who we really are. If we really take the trouble to press the pause button…we might even be confused about who we are or how many percent of ourselves actually belong to others…we only have a glimmer of who we are, but at the end even that morsel of self assurance is based more on faith than the testable.

So we take faith in the lie – I know myself, and in this magic surrealism that is our belief – our lives go on.


The opposite of…..

July 28, 2018

Hate isn’t truly the opposite of love. It can’t be. As to hate simply requires too much energy and such a significant investment of the self that it has to be closer to love than I can think of….no. The true opposite of love is indifference.

When one is indifferent. One simply isn’t invested any longer. One is the direct opposite of being part of. Whether it turns out heads or tails doesnt really matter…they’re both the same.

When you’re indifferent its all the same…nothing really matters any longer.


The man of steel

July 27, 2018

I don’t know precisely when it all started. Could well be four or five years back ago. Its not something one does consciously. Not to me, at least. But I can tell you why I did it….I experienced a few incidents when people who I trusted took advantage of me.

At some point. I began to draw an invisible force field between myself and others. No matter who I was dealing with. I maintained a strict set distance. Most of the time I would use a proxy like lawyer or a professional service to communicate with others. Everything was carefully monitored. The person’s attitude, response and even his or her temprament to what was said and done, so that they would be rendered clear like a fish swimming beneath me in crystal clear waters. I didn’t easily believe what other people told me. Not unless it was collaborated from a source that didnt have any links with this person and even should I believe it….I was always skeptical and wary.

At any rate….there is bound to be some who would grow so exasperated and irritated by this convoluted chain of communication….they would scream out at the top of their lungs…Why can’t he just fucking talk to us directly! Why does ever single word have to go thru at least two people before it actually gets passed down the line!

That sort of reaction merely confirmed that I and the people who I regularly engage are doing a good job of keeping my set distance from others.

But I didn’t keep a distance with her. No. She was different. Very different.

How do I know. I just know. I spoke to her only occasionally. Maybe twice a month. I didnt want to intrude. We spoke mainly about the weather and stuff she liked to do. I listened mostly and at the end of it I would put down the phone and climb back into my turret and lock down the heavy hatch.

The curious thing is when I ask myself why do I put myself thru this. I have no answers. Besides I am not so sure that everything in life necessarily justifies a question or answer. Not in words at least. I probably know the answer in another medium of expressing oneself besides words. But I know to be right as it feels right. Whenever I speak to her although its just thru the phone….everything seems to be that much brighter and less dangerous. The world suddenly has less sharp edges and it even manages to look beautiful and ….I can even believe that tomorrow can be better than today.

You know its like a passing bitter sweet feeling. Like those bygone sepia images. When a dictator who everyone else says killed alot of men looks at a child. He smiles and as long as the moment last he seems almost lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts. As if he’s reliving some life in the distant past. His eyes tear up and a smile breaks…..only I want to make this clear, its not for the child. Or that he thinks the child is cute and cudly.

You see that man is mourning the passing of his innocence.

I know these things that most men dont know.

I am the man of steel.

How many times have you heard a sage describe moving without moving, acting without acting, doing without doing?
I had a conversation with a friend yesterday who described this state perfectly when she spoke of being the stillpoint flowing.
I think flow is the paradigm of the higher dimensions. And the stillpoint is us resting in our centers. When we are the stillpoint flowing, I think we’ll be who these sages are describing.
My business rivals have made the first moves of aggression at 5.00 today….everyone in my camp is looking my way for leadership.

I simply told them….the mountain does not move. All other things and even creatures around the mountain may move and even make alot of noise. But understand this clearly!

The mountain does not move!


‘In the moment of my youth. I took Kendo – the way of the sword seriously. Most approached it in terms of a sport. I on the otherhand regarded it as a philosophy…a way of life.

Serious enough to shave my head bald….I saw myself as the ultimate destroyer or specifically the leveller of beauty. As in the moment of my youth, I was exceptionally good looking. I lived a spartan existence revolving like the planets only lectures and kendo.

There was one kendo exponent who I especially wanted to beat….his name was Hiroshi…he studied engineering in Imperial college. That was a novelty…a Japanese earning a British degree.

During one bout with Hiroshi. I suddenly found myself in the stillpoint of flowing…moving without moving…thinking without having to think…well that was at least how most kendoist would describe the experience… it seemed to me then it was impossible to defeat Hiroshi….he was simply too strong..its hard to describe it all…as its all happening at a higher-dimensional experience beyond just thinking…rather its knowing without having to search for knowledge and seeing without seeing….if you know what I mean.

After that I layed down my sword for seven straight years….You see…after that bout with Hiroshi. I knew something deep down…its not just a feeling like the desire to walk at half past twelve to seven eleven for a brain freeze slurpee. No! I knew deep down to the marrow of my bones. There was no way to defeat him. You see I just didnt have it in me…..he was simply too strong…too imposing…too much like a mountain and we all know. We all know.

Mountains dont move….I should know. I was the greatest swordsman who ever lived.’

The formation of the Singapore Food Agency (SFA) is timely and in my opinion long overdue. Hopefully the new statutory board would better support the local food sector and help boost its efficiency.

From what little I know. The SFA, which will oversee food safety and security, will be set up under the Ministry of the Environment and Water Resources. It will bring together food-related functions currently carried out by three other agencies – the Agri-Food and Veterinary Authority of Singapore (AVA), the National Environment Agency (NEA) and the Health Sciences Authority (HSA) under one roof.

The previous arrangement was so haphazard that anyone who was dumb enough to venture into commerical agri or livestock had to first jump thru 1,001 hula hoops or impersonate Phileas Fog by going from one ministry after another just to get basic approval for the most simple things….for years I have been very critical of AVA for their failure to provide a one stop administrative solution.


Duck King was afraid. I could smell his fear that morning. He saw with the landonwer that he was going to eat….that was all he needed to completely believe that I had given this chap the assurance that I would stand with him…no matter what comes.

Duck King was afraid. As in all probability he and his combined motley crew really only had JUST enough to take on this landowner….at best it was only a wafer thin marginal advantage.

That was the reason why he was so angry….he was afraid as he believed I would blunt any aggressive moves against this other landowner.

Truth is. I cant give two shits whether this other landowner lived or died…but its not that way in strategy in the context of power and politics.

I had to take a stand. As if they overrun him….I would be next.


‘Many people say its unfortunate that Singapore is in the bad books of China and possibly Mahathir. But I don’t see that as a bad thing. Not at all. As when you ask yourself – what is it that keeps you alert and sharp? There can only be one answer – YOUR ENEMY!

When I reflect back on my own experience as a planter. I can understand with remarkable ease what Sun Tzu actually meant when he wrote, when in war think about peace, when in peace think about war. It comes across as a stricture against being complacent….but what it actually prescribes is the overwhelming need for a person or instution or in this case a sovereign state to allow the threat of his enemy to shape its outlook, attitudes and form – to put it in another way, what Sun Tzu actually meant to convey is its bloody impossible to systematically develop war making competencies without the constant threat of destruction posed by one’s enemies.

It is certainly counter intuitive to presuppose that living under the constancy of the threat of destruction is necessarily a good thing. But if one considers that the threat of Gaul to Rome was essentially what supplied the impetus for the Romans to develop their highly disciplined skill of arms at developing the first modern meat grinder that eventually became the basis of all modern militaries….it is easy to see how war or specifically the threat of annilation can actually be a good thing. Incidentally, the eventual of defeat of Gaul followed by long periods of peace was what actually caused the Roman legions to anthropize and eventually decay to such a point where it ceased to be an effective war machine to enable it to prosecute on the demands of empire.

Despite my many attempts to distill this thesis into an elegant mathematic theory. I must admit failure. But what cannot be denied is the supposition that living under a state of constant threat is not necessarily a bad thing as it seems to be the only reliable motivator to compel individuals, firms and nations to be alert, prepared and capable.

When I reflect on my own life as a planter. It is the constancy of the threat of annilation that has been the one primary motivating factor that is responsible for my success.

In summary without the risk of coming across as someone who likes to blow his own trumpet….dont allow your enemies to bring out the very worse in you. Instead allow them to bring out the best in you.’

I must look like a juicy hamburger to the evil folk who believe they can take a bite out of me!

Not just any hamburger. But the gourmet variety that’s lovingly cooked and cared and never flipped by some kid that’s just trying to earn some extra pockey money to buy the latest smartphone. An exceptional hamburger that even holds out the promise of a gastronomical experience that goes beyond nirvananess.

But now. After the unexpected U turn and surprise attack…they realise I deliberately lulled them into a false sense of confidence and their brazenness was the main reason why they fell so hard….for the time being. They must be very busy putting out fires.

I dont expect them to launch a revenge attack on me.

Meanwhile I will dive deep and silent and disappear.


Nobody likes being alone…..that was a passing thought I experienced briefly somewhere between two lampost while walking in the city. It just flashed across the canvas of consciousness briefly. But the more I marinate in the city. The sharper these thoughts seem to feel. Its as if they’re nourished by the finality of my own admission that I will never be able to fit in as a normal person in the city.

Dont get me wrong. I do certainly experience these assaults when I am all alone alone in my plantation…..only they don’t ever seem to acquire the same heightened sharpness in being able to hurt me.

I don’t go out of my way to make friends, that’s all. It just leads to sadness…..I must learn to live with this gnawing feeling.


‘I don’t ever want to come across as someone who wears his loneliness like some badge of honor. No….there is nothing to be proud of when one develops a bent to search out loneliness. I am not saying one cannot wax lyrical no end about how the human spirit could or might soar under those desolate circumstances where a man is marooned all alone in his head. Sure that can be easily done to lend loneliness a dramatic la effect.

I should know. I went thru a phase of writing about the celebration of loneliness not only as a state of mind, but school of thought.

But if you really want to know the truth….the only real reason why any sane person would rather choose to be alone is simply because they have been hurt in the past.

So now you know something that you didnt know yesterday.

So now you know that when someone says he or she prefers to be alone its got nothing to do with the art of manliness or how macho he’s trying to come across….it’s just another way of insulating oneself from the prospects of more pain.

Loneliness is a double edged sword. One needs to find its center…the balancing point to hold it well to get the job done right. Its not something you just dive into and become. Because if you do that. It will swallow you whole, skin and bones….and you will just disappear like a drop of blue ink in a jug of clear water.

Loneliness can be clarifying…edifying and at times even liberating. But it can also be terrifying, debilitating and sapping. One has to journey into its center..core…to find that balanced point.

If you observe very mature people. They all know this.

Sometimes….it is not WHAT is stolen that really matters. Rather it’s HOW its stolen that is really the guts of life and death.

If you dont understand. Trust me its not me or my writing….you simply have to read the above at least ten times….and most importantly let it just rest somewhere quiet in your mind like a door stopper…..dont force it or your brain will over heat and you will end up making a right mess.

It will all come together.


‘Think of it like a game of cat and mouse with bits of monopoly thrown in. The goal is to set off alarm bells ringing in your enemies camp and engineer a near panic situation to create an opportunity.

How that opportunity translates into a decisive win depends entirely on what happens thereafter.

Let me give you an illustration.

Recently I ordered some big rocks and had them placed at regular intervals along the North South axis of my land. When people asked why were there rocks along the side of the road. There simply assumed. I plan to build a road to the south to enable me to sell my oil palm to a mill that would pay me a better price than what I am currently getting from the nearby mill. I went on further to add in quite a public manner that despite the cost of having to build a road, it would still be worth it. As I am getting a crummy price, those crooks (the millers) are milking me. I even pretended to leave decoy plans in the village kopitiam that consisted of fake road plans. When the millers heard this rumor in the grapevine. They got worried…my continued assurances that they have my word of honor that I will continue to sell my fruit to them worried them even more…so worried infact were they. Eventually they offered me a revised special price PROVIDING i abandoned my plans to build a road leading the mills to the South….of course I pretended that I didnt know what was happening by responding with a look of utter curiousity and surprise.

The case study: In the eighties, the seventh fleet suddenly found out much to their suprise soviet submarines could literally shadow them undetected. Previously, US naval intelligence was under the assumption, at the assumed level of soviet technology, they simply couldnt develop ultra silent zero bubble propellers. Only the West and Japan had this super technology. Westinghouse and toshiba. It was subsequently discovered toshiba sold the Russians milling and C&C machinery. This caused an uproar between the US and Japan. It was known as the Toshiba-Kongsberg scandal and violated concom agreements that regulated the sale of sensitive tech to the USSR. The scandal eventually even led to a congressional petition to boycott Japanese made audio and visual entertainment equipment..TV’s and Stereos. Nothing came of it, but maybe that was the goal, maybe not, to force the enemy into another super expensive arms race where they would have to upgrade thereby cleverly engineering a state of attrition.’

I Sail!

July 23, 2018

I can sail. Give me maps, a compass and sextant….and a sail boat and I can go any where in the world.

Life and death

July 21, 2018

There is a distinct possibility that all this will eventually lead to my undoing…sticking my head out that is..but there is also the possibility it may turn out all right.

After before I left them be on the understanding that maybe they would all buy into the common good of live and let live….but what did I get out from that deal?

I just came across as powerless and indecisive and this in turn led to more attacks.

This time round. They actually believe I have power…otherwise WHY form an alliance with a three legged horse and someone that is ill prepared for a full scale war…its suicide.

But they don’t realise its a bluff.

Providing no one calls my bluff…I am OK.

Spot the eagle

July 21, 2018

I raised her when she was small enough to fit into my breast pocket. Her mummy left her for reasons known only to herself…I had to fashion a fake mummy eagle head with socks and some plastic bottle ends. Cut a long story short. She grew up. She grew big.

Her name is Boonyi.

Eagles always return to where they once roost. This time round she looks dark and I suspect she may be pregnant.

Welcome home Boonyi!

If you’re the type who always seems to pretend its other people’s responsibility to stand up for YOU…and you much prefer to play it safe by sitting on the fence….avoiding eye contact or just keeping quiet. Then if those bullies get away Scott free….they will come right back for you again!

But if you stand your ground and say No more! And even if you end up rolling with the punches and get all bloodied….providing you keep at it.

At some point the bullies will just give up and say to themselves…you’re too troublesome.


Smoke and mirrors

July 19, 2018

Yesterday in the evening. I was seen dinning with a large landowner who is currently embroiled in conflict with a larger and meaner landowner….it must have been a tense moment as all the patrons left and it was really only two of us.

Some time latter in the evening. I received a call from the big bully landowner who demanded to know what we were talking about…..he started the conversation by accussing of planning something – I know what both of you are up too. Eventually. I was told not to get involved….for some strange reason this landowner is very nervous and unsettled.

I happen to know the MILF nurse who works for this bully landownwers physician. Infiltrated her last week… and she told me lately….these days he needs to take two instead of just one valium tablet just to fall asleep.

For some strange and inexplicable reason the bully landowner is convinced right down to the marrow of his bones that I have some power that can some how render his weaker rival invincible……it seems by just the mere fact of being publicly seen with this landowner all offensive plans have been suddenly called off abruptly.

We have now entered a state of affairs known as a cold war. In diplomatic language it is known as detente.

Actually, we were both talking about how to grow flowers without resorting to chemical fertilizers.


‘They all glare at him believing he has deadly carriers like them. You know those floating football fields that can launch war planes armed to the teeth. The curious thing is none of them have actually seen his mythical fleet….its always just over the horizon. Some can even swear they can smell their presence and occasionally on those rare occasions when a report those surface, its a confirmed sighting. But again no one can actually say what it looks like or even pin down her tonnage or gauge what sort of punch she can throw….but its there….out on the prowl like a lone wolf in the open sea.

You see the men on the table that hot afternoon all without a single exception have carriers….some even two and a few three. So they all assumed the man who sat with his imperial creme linen suit that day at the very end of the table had a carrier as well.

He spoke about hitting the here…there…and somewhere else…if they didn’t give him what he wanted. He made sweeping stabs on a large map. Raised his voice and even pointed at some on the same table that he had been more than patient…benevolent and kind, but that all this had to be reciprocated…otherwise as he said with a whispering hush…it all wouldnt be able to come around.

He had the swagger of a planter who owned at least three carriers…a man who could deliver a death blow….so was it so unusual that when the man pleaded in an almost child like tone…give me what I want and I will go away….they all relented.’

HSR pull out clause…

July 18, 2018

To my understanding of the power and political reality between Singapore and Malaysia….it was grossly negligent on the part of the transport and possibly the housing minister and even the EDB to allow this ball to slip right between their legs….they should have locked in the Malaysians in such a way where a pull out clause would be so exorbitantly expensive that it makes more sense for them to continue then to throw it into the dustbin…..of course many people will say now. Well we dont have a crystal ball…we are not descendents of Nostradamus either, so how do you expect us to know the ruling party of sixty odd years would vacate and the new Malaysian government would do an epic U turn while showing us their bum bum….but I disagree completely with this take.


The fifty and a bit billion dollar question is – was it all foreseeable? If it was not…then fine. No one should be blamed. After all shit happens and unfortunately it happens all the time. But my feel is there were so many red flags out there in blogoland to rightly draw the conclusion – there is a clear and present risk that the ruling BN party would lose to hedge one’s bets….so dont blame the Malaysians, blame the folk who should have been switched on. Obviously they must have been on auto or stand by mode for all this to have happened.

You know people ask me. Whether I like my job. Usually I just respond with a dolphin smile and shake my head in such a way where it conveys to them anything that they probably assume about how I might feel about what I do for a living. But occasionally…very seldom….and it’s happened before. I do come across men who like myself. I dont need to explain to them why I parked my car there when it makes far more leg sense to park it over here. Or why I always enter a building thru the service entrance. Never ever speak to strangers. Or for that matter have a habit of rummaging thru the personal details of people whenever I feel the need too…..I dont need to explain.

Comigng to think of it whenever I come across men such as myself – we dont even talk about it. Its a vampire thing…we just sit there quietly.

I tend to believe…when one knows a thing for what it truly is and not what others may say or claim it is….one tends to keep very quiet.’

The God of Pain

July 17, 2018

Unlike me. He never buckles to pressure. It doesnt really matter what sort of pressure it is…peer…societal or even the full frontal sort where a man puts a gun right to his head. He never buckles.

Its as if he revels in the very idea of staying in pain longer than anyone else. You know. Or maybe you dont. But I do….only too well.

As a kid I went thru this weird phase where I would hold my breathe as long as I could. At times I held my breathe so long I even frightened the adults who literally saw me turning blue and green.

But despite my best efforts I could never match him….I never even came close….he was the God of pain.

For me as long as I can hold my breathe beyond a certain point fixed in my head, that’s all I cared about. For him pain went beyond the merely sensory…it was his way of communioning with what he truly believed to be a state of existence which mirrored the world perfectly….a painful world….life itself was the distillation of pain in all its multitude of genres. The pain of unrequited love…the pain of a loved one leaving…the pain of simply not beinf able to fulfil the expectations of those who love you and you love…above all being in pain was his personal way of affirming his place in the human race…some people do so by putting a down payment on property…others with a spanking new car or a name card. All that was small beer to him. To him, the ultimate cognizance of pain and being able to french kiss her meant more than just being comfortable with the idea of life, it was the greatest testimonial that he still alive and above all present….it was a sort of validation…silent approval….camaraderie….la convivencia..that might have closely resembled his childish taste for books.

He liked Dumas. Read or probably imagined the narrative mostly thru comics. He read them all – The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers. His favourite was the D’Artagnan Romances, of which The Vicomte of Bragelonne: “The Man in the Iron Mask” was his favorite. I never actually asked him why he was so fond of Le Vicomte de Bragelonne. Besides it would have pointless to do so. He never ever gives a straight answer.

This was the same tack he took to everyone and as far as I know every thing in life…some people resort to drinking. Others to chain smoking. For him….pain. Or specifically being in pain was his way of coping, it was the clarity of pain juxtaposed against the seeming uneventfulness of life that gave all meaning to his life – he would often imagine himself as the tragic viscount imprisoned in a steel mask….at times he would utter something incomprehensible like just imagine not being able to stratch your own nose when it feels itchy.

He would say these things with an air of seriousness in the way one writes a million dollar cheque – there was nothing casual or flippant about his relationship with pain. It was as if he needed in the way the fable drug addict needs his fix or the alcoholic his two thumbs of lash.

That domain where he would struggle and gasp for air. Where his lungs will ache with every breathe and his heart beat so hard that it was the only sound that filled his senses. Yet he would journey further into the uncharted geography of pain…..only to stop when he knew only too well that he could go further. That was the difference between him and what he termed as men who were half men – he saw the world in terms of an alpha hierarchy that differed so very little from the power and politics of a kennel of dogs.

To his rudimentary understanding of how the unabridged version of the world worked…pain was inevitable. Hence he…the man….fashioned himself as its very personafication of pain’s God by making suffering optional.

In his mantra pain might well be unavoidable….but suffering was definitely optional.


He – the other me

July 16, 2018

I am looking at him….its the preamble between darkness and dawn….he seems trained on the unfurling sky. I wonder might he be trying to catch a glimpse of hope there, but I know that’s not how my other half sees the world. All he can ever see is the indifference of the capricious clouds drifting out to sea. They have nothing to say to him except bye bye. Clouds have always been to much like cats to him. He doesn’t like either their independent or taciturn manner. That reminds me. I probably shouldn’t be obsessing about clouds either. After all there is suddenly two of me now. He’s there and I am here….just standing silently and watching it slowly turn from indigo to bronze. The morning that is.

What I should really be looking at is deep inside me. What I should really be asking is why does HE seem to only come out when I cant seem to handle things or when gets too thick. Its never a pretty sight when I try to beacon out the murk by searching for answers to these questions….its paradoxically like staring at him right now. Can I see myself there? No, all I see is an expression of an inplacable, stubborn, self-centered and narcisstic soul whose probably the way he is in the way anything that is made out of rubber starts to go wonky especially running shoes especially when you dont use them regularly -the underside just peels right off and fuck it, it only really happens two thirds into a run. So there you have it the executive summary of how a man manages by creating another of himself to cope with shit, when troubles occur, he pops right out.

I’ve carried him around like one of those old suitcases filled with stuff that one should really chuck away, but cant seem to…only because despite his brashness, inhumanity and cruelty, it actually has sentimental utility…to me.

I like certain aspects of him. Correction. I admire. Well certain aspects of his character. like how he can look unflinchingly at the sum of the fears that would make most men cringe and run only to say, this is as good as any other day to die!

But make no mistakes. I dont carry him around with me because of fun sake. He is just too bothersome and weighty. I’ve carried him me because there was no else to turn too when I have to face off with really rough people.

There he stands silently in the steady approach of the morn. There is no fear in his eyes. They seem almost to accept the world for what it is rather than what it should be. I wouldnt exactly term it apathy or for that matter coming to terms with. Rather it was a curious sort of solidarity between the mind, spirit and soul that ironically only felt by the condemmed. The man whose lost in his thoughts pulling on the last cigarette of his life just before being lined before a firing squad. The captain of a stricken ship that has decided to go down with her. There has always been something quietly forlorn about him…something akin to a lingering sadness resembling the finality of the very definition of solitariness itself….yet on that icy cold speckled moon like surface. He radiated warmth as the sun began to rise above the distant mountains, it wasnt the ‘he is a jolly good fellow’ warmth. No..it was the warmth of fresh blood.

I hate to say this….but I am glad the cocoa farmer from Gabundi estate has returned.

No. It can’t be very easy. Not at all. One reason that may account for this anomaly is perhaps my militant refusal to see myself for really who I am. I dont mean I dont see myself….I do, its just that I tend to embellish, justify and even mythologize the person in the mirror without even realizing it. Truth is…there are many things about me that I and I am sure others may not like very much.


‘If I dont bother to give others the impression that I have the capacity to hit back and just turn the other cheek…..they will come back for more…of my arse. First they will take a bit, then more and more till its impossible to hold them back.

This way. Although most of it is make belief. They might just believe it and that is enough to scare them off. In life that’s all you can do when providence deals you crummy cards with no pairs….you just have to hold on to your guli’s tight and hope that when you tell the rest on the table…’raise you all…no…double or nothing! They take it all hook, line and sinker.

But do not be fooled for one moment….its a very dangerous game.

A game that only he can play…..

I woke this morning to find HIS bushjacket pressed. I had it locked it all in a steel box in the belief that I had finally banished him….and I have absolutely no recollection of ever retrieving it from the abyss.

He’s back!

The Art of Tidying

July 15, 2018