R.I.P. M.J

Just checking Charlo..... ud never know what u might have forgotten , or lost along the way....

Just my luck

So she rushes out of her house last week, as usual.. always late to work. Before she shuts the door, her housemate calls out her name, “Kathy”!...

“Ya”?, she turns around. “pull up your skirt”! “I can see your thongs”. Kathy reached out to the back of her skirt and tugged up her skirt while trying to balance her half a ton laptop on her back, handbag in one hand and having to calm down her ADHD dog with the other hand.

So the fact that she was indeed wearing thongs on that day was confirmed. In fact, she even remembers what color it was- purple, and fit.

Work was quiet that day, there wasn’t anyone in the office but her. She sat in her chair quietly as the time passed by slowly. Lunch time was something to look forward to. 1.30pm sharp, she picked up her 100 baht bag and locked up the office, walked down the stairs and headed out. As she was walking, she felt cold wind blow against her skirt, and for some reason… the cold air didn’t stop at the flair…it moved up…. all the way up where the sun don’t shine.

Kathy placed her right hand over her but cheeks discretely, hoping that none of the annas from the Tamil CD shop below her office would notice her touching herself. Confused was exactly what she was, not quite sure how to process what she had just realized. The cheeks were smooth all the way to the top, no string on top and no string in between. Oh my.Where the fuck was her panties??? Where???? I mean… what the hell could have happened to it??? It was there a few hours ago, and it was gone.

She stood there in shock, looked around and checked her ankle to see if she might have been dragging her purple thongs throughout Masjid India. The fact that that she was gonna spend the whole day without panties in Masjid India wasn’t the issue. Quite traumatizing it was imagining the creepiest possible way that she could have lost her panties in Masjid India, and worst case scenarios- If there was a sanitary pad attached to it!!!!

Panties thoyol maybe? Coz she remembered one of her colleague telling her how one of her bra strap had unhooked, FRONT and BACK and slipped all the way through her long sleeved blouse and fell out on the roads of Masjid India.

Nothing could ever surprise Kathy again. She took pulling a “Kathy” to a whole different level. Her mother always told her that she would loose her panties someday. Well, I guess I just proved that it wasn’t just a figure of speech… at least one person saw it coming. Like there isn’t enough to think about in life, now she even has to think about ways to safeguard her panties before walking out the door.
Kudos Kathy, Kudos.

Lovers, soul mate, whatever

Our paths chime a fairy-tale so common,
We were merely more then freshmen,
With a lover, soul mate, whatever…
Please don’t cry in your teacup forever.

May your next choice be one of your heart’s voice,
Lover, soul mate, whatever…
Have faith that somehow forever,
We can find a way to be together.

Blissful glee like our Marley and me,
I’ll make you my best mate, faithful company,
Really now, does it matter?
Lover, soul mate, whatever,
We can cry tears of joy in your teacup whenever.

My heart find asylum in yours,
Lovers now seem so lost,
Soul mates never seem to cross,
Whatever might just be our force.

Balance

How do u find a balance between what u want to do in life and what you ought to do in life?

I have a sister (the most talented of the rest) who is strong, intelligent, beautiful and manages to strive under any circumstances and walk out the best. She landed a job in very high acclaimed corporate company and was pulling in some big bucks, didn’t suit her fancy…so she moved on. Found projects to work on, did an excellent job, was offered a permanent position….didn’t suit her fancy, so she moved on.

Last year, she went for a permaculture course in the US, had a blast of a time- and she came back a different person all together. She is now living in a farm house in Batu Arang running her own permaculture course. Mud filled hands, dirty clothes, organic soap (that really dusnt do justice to her hair or skin), rat bitten hair, blisters on the souls of her feet and not to mention “not getting any”- all from farming and working on the land.

He land is gifting her with beautiful vegetables, fresh fish and embun pagi. I swear she aged at least 3 years within the past month, and shez so out of touch from the rest of the world- but I have to say, I have never seen her more content with herself and where she is in my life. There is really nothing more that she could ask for, she is exactly where she wants to be.

So, im guessing it took her courage to break away from the usual stereotype. Pay your loans, support your family, buy a house, get insurance, get a car, buy your loved ones presents, give back to charity, go travelling…… theres just too many things at stake in exchange for doing something that you want to do.
We are not selfish if we choose to live our passion, there is always a way to strive if we believe that we shall be great someday. And so you shall, be great someday… and till that day comes, I will be here, buying you your favorite snacks when you have your womanly (or whats left of it) cravings.

I too wish to run off to Africa live with the zebras, swim with the dolphins and touch the white lion’s mane, kiss the tail of a whale, play with children, sing with the old, dance with the crippled. Waiting patiently is no sweat, if you believe that it WILL happen, just not now.

So I guess my balance is faith in myself.

Beloved One

We have both been here before
Knockin upon loves door
Begging for someone to let us in
Knowing this we can agree to keep each other company
Never to go down that road again

My beloved one,
my beloved oneYour eyes shine through me
You are so divine to me
Your heart has a home in mine
We wont have to say a word
With a touch all shall be heard
When I search my heart its you I find

My beloved one, my beloved one, my beloved one
You were meant for me,
I believe you were sent to me from a dream straight intoTo my arms
Hold your body close to me
You mean the most to me
We will keep each other safe from harm

My beloved one, my beloved one, my beloved one

-Ben Harper-

I know a secret, and its kiling meeeeeee!!!!! I have an urge to tell the world, but the owner of the secret wouldnt be too happy. Its like an itch on my foot that wouldnt go away.

pop!!

Wippie d doo daaaaaaa......... so Zion is finally out of the oven !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Zion Hendrix to be accurate. I hope he turns out to be a beautiful soul just like his mummy... * Cheers!!!!*

This one is special

SANTA MARIA!!!!! Anxiety is building up!!!! Joe is due somewhere this/next week. Grrrr, i havnt had time to assimilate to the change. I pray all goes well. Shall be running down to JB to welcome baby Zion into the world when his stars and planets meet at the right time and place. As far as love is concern, yet another bundle of joy to add to my list of earthly delights. Sperfabulistic!!!!!!!!

Indigo Children

Ever felt like you don’t quite fit in? Maybe you were made for things greater than just “fitting in” :)

Many energy healers around the world started noticing a surge of babies born after the 1970’s to have indigo aura. According to their statistics, more than 60 % of people aged 14-25 are “indigo babies”. Indigo children have been on earth for as long as 100 years, but has increased in numbers since the world war two. Indigo children are believed to be sensitive beings, and very empathic towards their surroundings. They tend to be very in-tuned with the feelings of others, and are easily able to detect emotions. Indo babies have a clear sense of their “self” and feel a need to make a big change in his world, also recognized for their high talents and appreciation for creativity. They often ponder about their spirituality, and are known to be “wise beyond their years” because of their search for the self. Also very self-driven rather than system followers, which always makes them rebels, and thus the engine of change in the world.

The indigo phenomenon is believed to be a next step in our evolution as the human species. We are all capable of become Indigo children, but those born with it are here to show the way. Indigo Children can sense dishonesty, like a dog can sense fear. Indigos know when they're being lied to, patronized, or manipulated. And since their collective purpose is to usher us into a new world of integrity, the Indigos inner lie-detectors are integral. These children are worthy of awe, not labels of dysfunction. If anyone is dysfunctional, it's the systems that aren't accommodating the continuing evolution of the human species. If we shame the children with labels, we will crush a civilization before its had time to take roots.
Until fairly recently, all humans born on Earth were born as Third Dimensional beings. This means that they were fully in the material plane or realm, and their consciousness was "locked" into the Third Dimension. They functioned on the first three chakras, the material, the emotional and the mental. Where there was spirituality, it was usually seen as something outside or other than normal every day functioning. For example, Buddha had to sit under a tree for years to achieve spiritual enlightenment.

The Third Dimensional being is aware of him or herself as a separate and unique individual. There is no real sense of the unity or oneness of consciousness that is a factor of higher dimensional consciousness. Because of this sense of separation, humans have built a society that has very little awareness of the interconnectedness of beings and actions. And because of this lack of awareness, humans have created a planet of sorrow and suffering, where individuals see no need to be responsible for their thoughts, feelings and actions. Fear of not surviving on the individual level, because of lack of resources, has led to greed and imbalances that need to be addressed in order to create a stable planetary home for all humans.
The Indigo children arrived with the key to multi-dimensionality. They were born into Third Dimensional bodies, but their consciousness was effectively in the Fourth Dimension and capable of moving into the Fifth. When this "wave" of Indigo consciousness arrived on the planet in the early 1970s, the way was opened for all humans and the planet itself to shift into the Fourth Dimension.

At the Fourth Dimensional level of Consciousness, humans become aware of the Universal Law of One, otherwise known as "Unity Consciousness". This Law states that we are all One, we are all connected and that whatever affects one of us affects all of us. Indigo children carry this awareness in their consciousness, and it leads them to be warriors for many causes that will heal the Earth and stop humans from destroying and polluting their environment and harming other humans. The Law of One also fosters the understanding in Indigo beings that we are all equal, and that no one is greater than any other. The Indigo-Crystal adventure represents a huge evolutionary leap for the human species.
The Crystal Children began to appear on the planet from about 2000, although some date them slightly earlier. 90% of children aged between 1-7 are believed to be “crystal babies”. The first thing most people notice about Crystal Children is their eyes, large, penetrating, and wise beyond their years.

The Crystal Children have opalescent auras, with beautiful multi-colours in pastel hues. In the new world which the Indigos are ushering in, we will all be much more aware of our intuitive thoughts and feelings. We won't rely so much upon the spoken or written word. Communication will be faster, more direct, and more honest, because it will be mind to mind.
So, it's not surprising that the generation following the Indigos are incredibly telepathic. Many of the Crystal Children have delayed speech patterns, and its not uncommon for them to wait until they're 3 or 4 years old to begin speaking. The trouble comes about when the Crystals are judged by medical and educational personnel as having "abnormal" speaking patterns. It's no coincidence that as the number of Crystals are born, that the number of diagnoses for autism is at a record high.

As the indigo children have left their mark of change onto this world, it is the role of the Crystal children to maintain this change, act as a link between the transitions, and bring peace to the world as we evolve into our Golden Era.

Ceh-wah

The three Arokiam women decided to get together today and take a drive down to Kuala Kubu Bharu. Tei, a lively young Chin refugee that has been helping my sister out in her farm also followed us on our little crusade. I always feel stronger somehow, when I am in the company of my two favorite women-yet unbearable. The two hour journey was quite what I expected- a whole lot of nonsense, which kinda made sence on that particular journey. I was put in the back seat of the car, and watched by the rest as they awaited for me to kick off a young and bubbly conversation with Tei. Nothing came to mind besides the usual “ASL please”. 15 minutes down the journey, dagger stares were thrown from my sister followed by comments from my mother, in Tamil!!! Oh boy, Tamil meant trouble, definitely something she wouldn’t have wanted Tei to understand. As the pressure was building up in the car, I saw Tei lean forward from the corner of my eye. She held a tissue on her mouth and vomited out the chakuai that we ate a few minutes before. Boy, What a relief. All attention was on her and the “funny air” was gone- now covered with vomit fumes. We stopped by the side of the road and spent most of the journey fussing over her. Conversation came naturally after that, I guess I just needed an ice-breaker, in whatever form. Instead of the usual pass the parcel, pass the vomit seemed quite suitable. Saved by the vomit.

We parked our car by the hill, and walked up to Antares’ house. Antares is a well-known local artist, a rebel at heart, eccentric at being, and one that fights for a good cause…just because. From afar, I saw his wife, Anoor waving at us. Wrapped in what we would call rags, there stood a woman- a real woman. Her skin was dark, features somewhat unique, short curly hair, thin and petite, young in flesh but old in soul. Antares now stays with the orang asli in Kuala Kubu Bharu, well-assimilated into their culture, and the proud husband of one of the locals. I have heard stories before, that Antares had wedded a “special” woman, and was gifted with one “special” son. I was there that day, to meet them- and of course taste Antares’ famous “magic mushrooms” that he had promised us prior to our visit. However, sadly, unfortunately, and with much relief to my mother, Antares had helped himself to a few cups of “happy tea” while waiting for our arrival. His six dogs and five cats roamed his land and shared the vicinity.

We climbed up the stairs leading to his house, bearing gifts of shit- literally. My sister thought that it would be a nice gesture to bring him some organic fertilizer- to enrich his rich land. True enough, he was ecstatic at the sight of shit. We introduced ourselves to the family. His wife seemed a little reserved and skeptic. His son, a 12 year old naked boy, thin and tall, squatted on a plastic chair glued to the computer- was completely oblivious to our presence. Unlike his father, this little one couldn’t give two shits. The house was on stilts, so I walked below the window and called for him. He greeted me with an “alien language”. Most of his syllables were made up of the sounds “la” and “na’. In a weird way, I completely understood him. A thought passed through my mind- he didn’t mind not being understood- which by itself is an understanding of the self that is so profound. He made me smile, and I made him “na na la la la”.

The sky was starting to get dark, we felt a few drops of rain trickle down our body. We immediately packed the necessary, gathered the heard and headed down to the waterfall. How sweet it must be- living next to such a majestic creation, with the sound of the cicadas to kill the silence- being in a place that was made for you, in your land that you inherited from children, right where one was ment to be.

The journey there took barely a few minutes. Anoor and son decided to perch by the shallow river. The rest of us continued our journey through the narrow road, that led to a beautiful opening. All of the dogs seemed pleased to be there, sniffing about in the familiar land. Without a second of hesitance, they made their way to the water and plonked. Haha, what an unusual sight. After a few hops and skips from rock to rock- there we were at the famous “diving spot” that I had been looking forward to. My mother and Antares waited by the bank and watch the three young ones splash about in the water.
The water was as perfect as perfect could be. Warm enough to keep you from shivering, and cold enough to give you a chill down your spine. Sabina climbed her way to a high spot on one of the rocks, apparently, the exact same spot that she allowed Antares to coax her for a good 15 minutes to take a plunge of death-or so she made it seem. While the both of us were busy getting all jittery, Tei made her way up to the “spot” and dove in fearless. Wow!! Where did the quiet mouse in her go to?? Sabina and i were in disbelief, we waited for her to pop her head out of the gushing waters, patiently as the anxiety in us built up. No biggie on her side tho, she arose from the water and the look on her face said it all- it was one hack of a thrill. She laughed and kept on tumbling among the rocks- Tei the little Mogli. Next up was my Sabina’s turn. Being the eldest among us and the more experienced one- there was no room to show fear. She took a leap, not to far out, but just enough to avoid the rocks that could have caused her some massive concussion. Then came my turn. Surprisingly, most of my anxiety had dispersed. Partially because my swimming skills had improved a tad bit over the past years. I held my nose tight and counted loudly, “one , two, three”!, not allowing my mind to take over my body, my feet left the rocks I stood on pushing my body as far as I could. I made a huge splash in the water, and I felt myself disappear from this world for a few seconds, time seemed maya. Somehow, I didn’t panic, I just let myself be. The current pushed me up and I followed till the waters were still. The adrenaline rush was out of this world, crinkly toes put to shame.

Adventurous we were, climbing every algae- filled rock and discovering every god-made jacuzzi. We strayed a little far, excited that we had found a pool- like spot, we swam about like little guppies. The day was getting chilly, so we made our way back. The swim home was a little tricky, and the current was not at our mercy. Before any of us could react to what was approaching, my reflex made me stretch out and pull my sister from falling down the rocky fall. I felt my heart dip when I missed her hand by a second, and there I was watching my other self dip down that intimidating waterfall, rock and all. I froze, and I waited. A few moments after, I saw her escape the current and hold on to a tree bark for her dear life. Antares quickly noticed the commotion, and he ran to her rescue. From the top of the waterfall, I could see the concern in my mother’s face. We were all scared, but somewhat relieved that she was alive and kicking. As I was hurrying my way to her, I saw her stand up. I stopped to take a few moments to myself- just registering that that very moment could have been the worst day of my life. From afar, I saw Antares performing reiki on her slightly injured leg, as she laughed . Pewh, how typical of Sabina Arokiam! I was angry and worried, and tickled and shocked all at the same time.

The whole “Sabina” drama marked the end of our little adventure. As we took our first few steps back home, suddenly my sister’s last words before she fell came to me. “Woops, Here I Go”. I burst out laughing and the others shared my amusement. Geez, I would never have imagined anyone’s last words before a near death experience to be: “Woops, Here I Go”!!!!!. One too many Murphy’s has made the flesh too sore.

When we stepped foot at the house again, the rain had already shied away. Caught up in the moment, I hadn’t noticed that Sabina was going through some severe emotional distress. I soon discovered that much to her horror- Brother E**** was also there for a visit. What odd luck, we were just talking about the few home-runs that he tried to score with my sister the last time she met him. Itchy man he is. As the story goes, he even tried to rest his fingers under my sister’s bum as she was about to sit on a chair. Hahahah, who would have expected it from a brother eh? She said a quick hello, and avoided much delay after.

We made ourselves at home in what Antares had introduced to us as- his “bamboo palace’. It was just the perfect home, nipah roof, bamboo floor, and beautiful veranda- all of which were resting on stilts. I stole a few minutes alone on the hammock after drying up. I swung slow, afraid that it might give way considering that it was just bamboo keeping the house together.

Tea was served, we sat around a plastic table enjoying the tea that Antares had mad for us- each cup catered to our specific interest, the smell of wet-dog made me feel at home. Conversations after that gave me a clue that both my mother and Antares had already exchanged a few stories about my family. Tea time brought us many interesting conversation, many of which that touched me on a more personal note. Brother E**** however, was too obsessed yacking away about himself, disrupting the sync of the energy around the table that existed before. I had prepared myself for a horny little bastard, but nothing annoys me more than a yacky know-it –all. from across, I saw my mother trying her best to make conversation with Anoor. From her facial expressions, crinkly excess skin on her forehead- I could tell that most of the conversation was lost in translation.

I got off my seat and took the stairs down. Being the perfect opportunity to escape the round table discussion, Tei jolted out of her chair and followed me down. We took a walk around the house and settled down facing the beautiful sunset. The silver lining was amazing, the rays and the orangey-pink sky made it extra- ordinary. We started talking, and I begun to enjoy our conversation. She spoke to me about her four brothers, and I butted in by saying that I would be happy to share my sister with her. She nodded her head, and said thank you. She looked like she needed to say something, so I kept my eyes locked on her face. She smiled as she said, “I love her very much, she is the best teacher”. I couldn’t describe how proud of my sister I was at that moment, this is the greatest gift one could give to another- love and knowledge. I was happy that Sabina had made a difference in her life- just as she had done in mine. I learnt so much about that young girl in that few minutes. She is a strong, unique, loving young woman, and one day- she shall be great, not because she must, but because she knows that it is she.

Right before the last ray of sunlight disappeared, the sweet potatoes were ready- freshly baked, hot and wild. It was the best sweet potatoes I have ever tasted, I admit, it may have been fully psychological. I made my way around the little crowd avoiding Antares’ legs afraid that his sarong might give way any moment, settled myself in the only available spot- beside Antares’ wife. We soon made small conversations. I found it hilarious, we seemed like we were having a fully functional conversation, but to tell you the truth- I couldn’t understand a single word she was saying and vice versa. But it didn’t matter, all she wanted was for someone to listed, the nodding and smiling looked like it made her happy, so I kept up my good work. From what I gathered, one of the most intense topics throughout our conversation involved the word ‘mabuk” for more than four times followed by “nenek” “mati” and “longkang”. Thinking of it now, geez, poor lady, gruesome even - if it means what I think it means.

We rounded up our conversations and said our goodbyes, exchanging a few hugs. It seemed like everyone there had enjoyed each other’s presence, and farewell was not an option- we would most definitely be back in the near future. In fact, Antares’ wife had asked me for my phone number. According to him, this is the first time she had taken interest in anyone, all the more, ask for a number. Antares couldn’t help but spark some curiosity among the rest. Apparently, she hasn’t yet conquered the superficial knowledge of functioning a phone. She pulled me closer to her, and whispered, “bawa baju, rambutan, dan nie (pointing to her eyes)”. Ahhhhhh, now it all made sense, for a second I thought I was special. It seems like I was the perfect target to fish a gift, impressed by the rainbow on my eyes, lips and nails. Everyone had a good laugh, because she did it in such a pure and innocent way, shining the child in her. I dug through my bag- and brought out my lipstick. The glow on her face was priceless as I handed it to her.

Today I got to know many strangers, today I went back to my real home, today I shared my love, today I learnt many things new. It was a splendid day indeed. I hope I have many more days as such, to keep my spirits high.

Welcome to the world baby Lucas!!!
This bundle of sugar is the latest addition to my list of nephews :)
Wallah, Kudos God!! Good job done yet again!!

Katrina Who???

Back in my younger days, I thought of my name as being unique and somewhat cool. Nobody I knew had it, and kids at school use to get fascinated by my one of a kind calling. People called me Kat, Kathy, Kanna, Trina and Katax (this one was derived from a disasterous scrabble game with my cousins at 3 am). Some of it stuck on, some of it forgotten- but I always remained Katrina. The others that didn’t matter much insisted to call me Katherine- which by the way, is a name that I absolutely despise.

I think that the representation of this name to me was amplified because I don’t have a middle name. Tragically, my father wasn’t around to watch my coming into the earth and he conveniently forgot to add his name to my birth certificate when he went back a few days later. THUS, I was left with neither a middle name, nor a surname.

Apparently, I was named by my grandmother. My mom feared her existence- her decision was usually final. Little did she know that I failed to carry down the legacy of the “Das”, that has been passed down for generations. Katrina Mudali Das- Yuck. God Bless my Father’s faked pre- Alzheimer’s!!

Maybe I was lucky in a way that I didn’t get stuck with any traditional names such as “Ranjeni” or “Pushpa”. I have a Sabahan brother-in-law whose name is Jamal. He spoke and looked like a Malay, thus my grandmother refused to call him by his original name. Matthias was his confirmation name, and the preferred option. However, over the past year, “Mathias” has slowly and conveniently evolved into being “Muttiah”. Poor boy.

Some people think its kinda cool. I do admit that it would have been cool if my parents came to a conscious decision to name me Katrina- and just Katrina. Once you get around the whole drama of my name’s birth, it just sounds kinda sad. Not to mention the trauma I went through as a child, convinced by my siblings that I was picked up by the rubbish dump. Thank god I grew to resemble one of my two of my cousins- each from different sides of the genes.

Long story short, my point is that there is no other name besides Katrina, that I can truly identify myself with.

As I grew older, I found an album in my dad’s dusty record collection- it read “Katrina and The Waves”. Oh well, it didn’t bug me much, coz they looked geeky anyway, and nobody really took notice of them – besides old school men such as daddy; impressing them wasn’t exactly on top of my list.

On my first day of registration in college, I walked over to the counter to enroll myself. Boy was I shocked when I saw that there were two “Katrinas” on that darn enrollment list. Not only was it my name, it was spelt the same way too!!!! I felt stripped of my identity, and I was determined to find the “OTHER” Katrina to kinda see if she lived up to the uniqueness of the name. Ironically, we met in a lift, and introduced ourselves. She was one of my first few friends in college, and she remains a very good friend to me till today. I grew to like her, Fab Kat; OCASSIONALLY cooler than me J, so there wasn’t any competition for the “True Katrina”. We hung out together most of the time, and ironically, ended up under the same work roof. The confusion that started five years ago still remains. Some people resort to calling us Kat A and Kat B, or Kat 1 and Kat 2. It never really bugged me as I thought it would have, I enjoyed the little jokes that we use to make, and even the jokes made at the expense of us. However, there were also other Kats in college. One of them called Katriona; probably the more sophisticated version of Katrina, and the other was just unacceptable…… her name didn’t even contain the letter “K” in it. It derived from some stupid nickname that her siblings gave her when she was young, and thus it stuck on.

With the four “Kats” in college simultaneously, I kinda got used to being the “less unique”. Soon came Hurricane Katina, Katrina Kaif and many other random strangers that answer to the calling.

I always knew that I was named after a saint. My caloricity led me to a very disturbing fact of history. The name belonged to a 4th-century saint and martyr from Alexandria who was tortured on the famous Catherine wheel. The Catherine wheel (also called the breaking wheel), turned out to be quite a gruesome torture device. A seventeenth-century chronicler wrote the victim looked like, “A sort of huge screaming puppet writhing in rivulets of blood, a puppet with four tentacles, like a sea monster, of raw, slimy and shapeless flesh mixed up with splinters of smashed bones.”

*Shudde*

OMG !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Its like naming your child “Doom” or “Curse” !!!!.

In this moment, sitting in my room alone with thousand thoughts running through my head, candle lights surrounding my room, cold air running though my toes, had parquet comforting my body- I don’t really care if I’m really a “Katrina” anymore. Because I have a choice to be who I want to be- I choose to be “Katrina- one ever evolving.

From days that we use to cry by the pool, eat crackers in the balcony, head out to Bangsar with a hankie as a top, spend each day of our lives in the infamous 3-15-5 Pantai Hillpark…….you have come a long way. Caring and loving has always been your way, but now I see something new- I see hope in your face.

Congratulations Joe!!!!!!!!!!!! a new life awaits his turn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s always an honor to watch someone you love become a mother.