It was the twenty-first of October 2018, and the weather was alright. I had strategically placed the garden chair alongside the shed, so I’d be sitting out of the wind, while getting what little sunshine that was left. With some imagination (and my jacket on), I could pretend it was still summer. Sitting there, probably […]
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Last time, I talked about my little excursion to the Mediterranean. There’s more to the story than meets the eye. Let’s rewind the clock about nine years, to when I was a twenty-two-year-old college student in my third year – and a particularly exhausting year at that. See, what they don’t tell you is how
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About nine years ago now, I found myself traversing the shopping streets of some Mediterranean island. Walking right next to me, in the blazing hot sun, was Frank (not his real name). He was one or two years ahead of me in college, and seemed to have everything going for him: a charismatic twenty-something with
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Saturday, while on my way back home from the hairdresser’s, I happened to notice one of my high school teachers walking on the pavement. I rolled down my car window, gave her a warm greeting, and decided to step out of my car to continue the conversation which lasted for about fifteen minutes. After catching
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I was around seventeen years old, sitting next to a girl in her early twenties – she reminded me a little of a young Catherine Zeta-Jones, in a booth not much bigger than the average bathroom. She’d brought along her laptop, and showed me the best television series I had ever laid my eyes upon
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This happened a while back. It was a typical Saturday morning, around eleven AM, when a semi-truck came barreling straight at me, driving on the wrong side of the road. I had mere seconds to react: stay put or move left, to the other side of the road? I was going at about fifty kilometres
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There I was, running back to my car. I was holding a shopping bag full of decorational stuff, holding my jacket to shield it from the pouring rain. This happened last Thursday, the day before the start of school. I’d picked up some fake plants, a plush owl (it’s like a teddy bear, but it’s
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It was a hot summer day, and I was cooling off inside when my dad rang me up, asking me to meet him over at our neighbour’s place, in her back garden. When I arrived there, he pointed to a black steel frame, mounted on wheels. “You pick this side, I’ll pick the other side,”
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Looking up, I spot wasps, buzzing near the garden table, about two metres away. This is around three o’clock in the afternoon, and I’ve been sitting outside for about an hour now, trying to soak up some sunrays, while reading Dante’s Divine Comedy. I decide to put the red hardbound cover back down onto my
I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me) – VJD Newsletter Read More »
Here’s one hell of a controversial opinion: I liked Mission Impossible 7 better than Oppenheimer. I know, I know, Oppie will bring in more money at the box office, critics liked it better, it tells a much more important story, etc. But when it comes down to personal enjoyment – which is what truly matters
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