My mind raced back to my old room in Kinta Lane, me laying on my belly reading your letters, writing back to you. I could hear myself reading in my head your letter - to add a little drama and nostalgia, I watched my memory of you (embodied in letters) through sepia tones, hehehe - I was watching myself reading another thick letter from you.

I think (because I’m not sure) a lot has happened to me because I have lost chunks of memory over the years - there are times I wondered whether I really did die at some point, time got rewinded and I came back again..and again..and I lost some of those memories. More likely, it’s a coping strategy to delete memory, and some good files get deleted during the reformat :D.

I can’t remember how I knew you or why we wrote or why I can still hear your voice, that funny way you speak Hokkien, hehehe…I can see your slight body (maybe you’ve grown taller, I don’t know). I seem to remember we went to a school play? Did Gillian introduce us?

I miss ‘you’….I think I miss who I was with you. (Err…sounding like we had ’something’…no, I meant, I became corporate, mainstream, I miss the person I was.)

What lead to this - My brother’s MSN post about Britney’s disastrous VMA awards, made me go look at it on youtube, came across news of Kid Rock and Tommy Lee fighting during Alicia Keys’ performance, remembered Kid Rock had that duet with Sheryl Crow, read the lyrics, did a mood-swing test on tickle.com and within seconds, was googling dianne chang li-ann. I have NO IDEA how that all connects.

I read your writings…….I think a writer’s work is as distinctive as a voice on a song, a fingerprint - more telling than a photo. I hear you, see you, through your writings, like it was yesterday.

In reminiscence,
Sloane aka Carolyn Mak