Winter, Skiing & Just Me

Grey sky and purpled lights on canyon streets. Enchanted little towns all draped in white. God, I miss the days when the whirls of snow enlivened me with joy. I miss those snowy mountains where even spirits walk ever so slowly, swept by cold. I miss the feeling of my foot sinking deep in virgin snow, one by one, leaving intriguing footprints. I miss the days when winter meant body in motion on a downhill dare… SKIING!!! I miss the sensual feeling of icy winds rushing all around me, surrounded by beautiful landscape, whispers of snow and the occasional glimmer of dancing sunlight as it kissed the clouds. It’s like being free of the restraints that bind me to the earth. God, I miss winter… I miss skiing… I miss being me, just me…

Instead, here I am, trapped in tropical heat. Not only that, I’m trapped in a country where the new are born to destroy the old. A nation where dreams are easily broken. A place where respect must be automatically given to older people and people with certain statuses in life. A place where religion is not a choice but must be inherited from fathers to sons, from mothers to daughters, from families to families. I have no more empathy for my own people. I have no more respect for the culture, the religions, the norms and all the shit they made me grow up with. I know that’s bad. But who are all these people anyway? They flow in the veins of every city, every town, every village and every kampung to lie and to steal. And they don’t only steal money. They steal pride and dignity. They steal love and lust. They steal spirits and freedom. And they do it while hiding like butterflies among fluttering leaves. They’re all like that. That’s why I wish we could have winter here… coz when all the leaves dry out and fall to the ground, they would no longer have a place to hide… And they would die on the snow and I would freely ski on them! God, I miss winter… I miss skiing… I miss being me, just me…

It’s almost October and winter is fast approaching the northern hemisphere. It’s almost ski season again. But I’m here where people only know one season… THE HOT SEASON. You may think we have two seasons in the tropics – dry season and rainy season – but you’re wrong. You see, when it’s dry, it’s hot. When it’s wet, it’s hot. So we only have one season: THE HOT SEASON. No flowery springs, no wild summers, no romantic autumns and no soothing winter. No winter. No ice sheets. No snow flakes whirling fantastically in misty air. No winter. And so here I am. I’m the one who goes late in the streets and thinks of murder. I’d like to murder all those people who destroyed every single thing I believed in. I’m the one who lies staring and thinks of death. Maybe death is the only way out. I’m the one who has suffered, clenches her hands despairing, holds her breath and thinks the air is fire. In this room, silently, I miss winter… I miss skiing… I miss being me, just me…