Peter Cat blogs

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One of my earliest aspirations is to travel. there is something magical about going to a foreign land, and that surrogate country is but the starting point of someone else’s dream to venture somewhere entirely. In that final destination, someone is saving up to leave, even if it is momentarily.

Taipei was dark and grey, and it smells dank and wet. The typhoon has brought the rain that pours over the grey brick city of so much history, strained under its political entanglement with the mainland. The city orderly, disciplined, the street vendors shrewd, unsmiling. It reminds me of Shanghai, of Singapore where there are so many people, only money can make one stand out in the crowd, looking down and over the mass mob. Skyscrappers with the highest building title draws in the tourists until another city built yet another taller building.

misery is cyclical.

It is time to leave the cities, to places where there is space between you and me and i dont mean the concrete slabs that separate us. where the air smells free and where the earth yields fruits and flowers not carparks and malls. where the emptiness confronts you, where you can no longer find an excuse to fallow and follow.