Where All the Chivalry Went These Days?

Do you know most of the things has a scent to smell? I have never certified to any scientific proves as in books, an article or else. But according to my undemanding observant observation, I figured that most of the things has a smell.

Just like tonight's scent, the poignant smell of fresh plastics very thin yet glossy and pretty, hiding in between but still caught off guard. Which the reason why I am still awake by three hours to sunrise. I have got few plastics that wrapped a circle shaped solid matter as known as a disk. Easy A, The Prince and Me, Going Through the Distance, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World and The Runaways are my pills for the night. There is no other way to feel really alive after watching stories of twisted minds and characters on screen. There is no better way to seek the sun creeping through the window.

I almost could not feel my feet cause it started to froze under the one room circulated low temperature air conditioner while my thoughts were running too fast my shadow could barely keep up. The unlighted living room by the dawn, everything was motionless in stare. Left overs by the dining table. Freshly read news papers lie on the floor, restless. I walked through the carpet, across the not much to describe chair, unless the metallic grip by the two sides, to my balcony. I was on my bare feet, touching skin to skin by the velvet mundane peach floor, my mouth was not closed just like my undiscovered thoughts flying between towers and reached back down my throat as I finally recognize the smell of dawn. Light, deep and feeble. There was mountain of dew at the edge of the view, all smoky grey almost white right under the darkest skyline. The streets looked like they are dead, though the tall buildings telling me they are in love, and the lights, oh those dashing lights, were the second best part of the picture. The scent of breaking dawn got to be on the first place.

The sun has calling me to sleep, just because I have to.

Good night, J.