Distilled air

is smelling the moist and wet scent hovering in the air within the concrete and cement around me, and listening to the whipping droplets as I rushed straight into my car from my gym (speaking of which, looking at myself in the mirror these days as I shower seems to instill a branch of small confidence I’ve never had). The new programme the gym owner introduced to me made every muscle on my torso ached with fatigue, but as I caressed my ears with the symphony of the rain, I am brought back to the pre-New Year storm in Melbourne and am reminded of the hailstorm of epic proportions I missed this year.

I missed the genuine conversations I’ve had with my Melburnian friends where I can be completely myself, and it is just as well that I decided to fetch Caroline the Tanzanian to the train station after last week’s French class. At least the first half of my journey back home from last week onwards would be filled with conversations—and maybe a friendship would bloom—and when she listened to the Glee songs from the speakers of my car, a conversation was born. She asked if I can sing and I lol’d and said no, I only like to listen to other people sing.

When she asked if our college has Africans or not, I said yeah, quite a bit, but no Tanzanians that I know of. The both of us remarked how the Africans will tend to band with the Africans, and the same goes to Malaysians, and over this she pondered. Unfortunately with Malaysians and probably countless of others around the world, we have a horrible tendency of viewing the Africans in a negative light, and to paint them all with the same brush is a gross injustice—like in the case of Caroline, who’s really a remarkably intelligent and diligent individual (from my first impression anyway).

We had our first potluck gathering in ages at Esther’s boyfriend’s place in Klang on Saturday night, and both me, Sarah, and Jon followed Ding’s car there and awaited for the others to arrive. Earth Hour was conducted about 15 minutes late as we adjourned outside on the porch, and we had to further end it abruptly when Tony accidentally cut his finger while trying to cut some onions in the dark. Esther’s friend Serina and Tony’s siblings soon arrived along with Alvin, and compliments went to the chef of the rendang I brought from home. Ryui Bynn, Shawn, and Andy arrived last. We ate more BBQ food and satay to further fill up our stomachs, followed by a rather delectable combination of Chivas and Coke made by Tony’s brother.

When it was getting too hot outside, we went back to the comforts accorded by the house and the fans and proceeded to watch a horror film of sort screened on AXN titled as The Plaque.

Laughters and nostalgia were boundless that night.

And, a little over a month to go. I can’t wait for that moment in the airport.