Fond Memory

If someone asks me about you,
I’d tell them you’re like one of
my fondest memories, 
the kind that is frozen in time by a photo,
I’d look at that photo 
and re-live all the things that happened
before, during and after the shutter clicked
and when I’m done, I’d wonder

when will I ever smile like that again?

Movie Review

Arrival: Movie Review

Movie Review


Movie Summary:

A mysterious unidentified object has landed in twelve different areas on Earth. Governments from around the world tries to communicate and understand what these “Aliens,” are here for. Amy Adam’s character, Louise Banks, is a linguist who was recruited by US Col Webster (Forest Whitaker), along with Ian Donnelly (Jeremy Renner) – a physicist, to understand the purpose of the extraterrestrial visitors.


I will try my best not to give away as much details as possible. Director Villenueve has yet again, presented us a stunning work of art. I adore this movie, it’s flawless acting combined with an unpredictable plot twist makes this movie moving and unforgettable. I love sci-fi and the mystery that surrounds a particular story, the Arrival is not short of mystery at all.

The movie takes us to a different journey to what we’re usually used to seeing from plots surrounding the arrival of extraterrestrial beings. Louise Banks, as a linguist, believes that in order to understand foreign visitors, they first need to be taught our language. She tries to communicate with them through visual aids, using a white board and a pen. She instantly get a reply, but in a form of writing they don’t understand. Eventually, with the help of her team and Ian, she made progress to the point that she is able to understand their responses and even read them. In the end, they found out that the purpose of their arrival on Earth is to give humans a gift.


There is a major plot that I did not reveal in the above summary, simply because it will give away the mystery. This story takes a different approach, in a sense that it humanizes these aliens. And, also, the scenario is much more realistic. The government tries diplomatic approach to reach out to these aliens, which is the most likely the scenario should there ever be an “arrival.”

I also very impressed with how the character of Louise Banks was built. All throughout, you have preconceived notion that Louise Banks is the way she is because of her past. But in this movie, what you see is not really what it seems.



All I can say is, I love this movie. It was touching, realistic (in a way) and mysterious. A perfect recipe for a good movie.

Final Rating: 5/5

Rotten Tomatoes Rating: 94%


Now Listening


Cranes in the Sky by Solange Knowles

I love this song! I don’t know why it took me so long to check out Solange’s critically acclaimed album! Wow. Cranes in the Sky is a soulful song full of emotions and meaning.

Don’t Touch Your Hair is also awesome.

If you haven’t check-out the single, go and listen to it, enjoy your eargasm!

Anyone else loving it?

Note to Self

When I Write

o-woman-writing-facebookDo you think you’re a different person when you write?

When I write, I feel like I become a different person, someone who is removed from my usual daily self. I become an observer of my actual self, and from there I draw inspiration for most of my works.

There is a vulnerability that I feel when I write. I am no longer me – I become someone whose soul is stripped naked for my own examination. Each emotion, whether it is happiness, sadness, anger or pain is under the scrutiny of the writer in me. I try to translate these complicated feelings into words but sometimes, it is an exhausting journey. It’s like chasing the ends of the horizon, no matter where you go, there will always be that thin line where the sky and earth kiss. It’s the same with words and emotions, sometimes; there are just not enough words. When this happen, the writer in me just stops and I transform back.

I guess this explains why for the longest time, I never marked my works with my own name. It’s not that I feel remove from it, rather, I feel like it is a different part of me that have mustered up the words to create poetry or stories or whatever it was that I worked on.

Recently, I’ve started to inked my name on my poetries, and it feels weird for me. I now understand why some people prefer to mark their works under a different name. Some of the world’s best writers have at one point stamped a pen name under their work. I can’t speak for them, but maybe, just maybe, they felt the same way that I did.

Well, this is a segue but I’ve also now understand what Beyonce meant when she said on stage, she was Sasha Fierce. Maybe we all have different personas, I don’t know. All I know is that when I write poetry, I give some of my biggest secrets to the world. My poetry is the stripped versions of me, the one that not everyone sees or meet.

So, have you ever felt like you transform to be someone else when you start writing?

Daily Prompt



I once loved a man whose eyes and hair were brown
I loved his ability to make me laugh and smile
He would always make an effort to be around
That was him, that was just his style

I once knew a man whose brown hair was short
He had a heart bigger than the ocean
I floated within that sea of love until it hurts
Like all things left in the water for too long, I drowned

I remember his brown eyes and the way it lights up
But also the way it frowned and glared
They were beautiful when they were happy
And hurtful when they were angry

I learned that sometimes, we drown but survive anyway
And all we can do, is try to remember that feeling
Of grasping air, those painful claws in our throat
So we don’t drown again, because we don’t need that pain


Inspired by yesterday’s Daily Prompt: Ancient. This one talks above a once good relationship that turned sour, an ancient history of two people.


Photo Unknown c/o Google

Daily Prompt

The Affair


In a dark corner, sitting in a dusty sad chair, I wait for you. The barman, gaunt and old with a white beard, was cleaning a glass with an old rag. He’s been at it since I walked in.

The place is almost empty, saved for three tables. One, occupied by a woman with long blond hair wearing a short loud red dress and her drunk client. Another was occupied by a regular, a man probably in his forties but his addiction has made him look older. I’ve always wondered how the man ends up in this forsaken place. Probably, the same reason as mine. And then there’s me, standing out amongst the rest, even if no one can see me in this dark corner.

I wore my long black coat, underneath it is a little black dress, one that I bought just for you. I am no drunk and yet I’m sitting at a bar far away from the city center, older than anything I’ve ever been. It was almost disgusting, but you were right, in here, no one will recognize us and we can be anyone who we want to be.

You’re late again, I don’t even know why I come on time. You’re always late and you don’t even try to make an excuse. I’ve been here for 15 minutes, sipping on a cheap red wine, but I wait patiently. This place is miserable, but the thought of seeing you just makes up for it. Finally, I hear the door opening and I peek your tall figure entering. Your dark hair is messy, as always. You flash me a smile as soon as you glanced at me, and you take my breathe away. For all the time you’ve given me that smile, it is yet to fail to make my heart skip a beat.

You kissed me on my cheek, “hey babe,” you said, lacing your fingers into mine and kissing them. “Hi,” I said huskily, I don’t mean to sound like that, but you’ve got power over me.

You asked me if I was ready and I said yes even though I wanted us to stay just for a few moments, to talk because we never talk.

We walked towards your car and as soon as we get in, we share a torrid kiss. “God, you’re amazing,” you commented as your fingers slips back and forth my legs. We drive farther and ended up in a motel in another town.

It was new to us, and I didn’t give a damn. You tore my dress as soon as you got hard. The fucking is always amazing with you. You blow my mind and I blow yours too. We can’t keep our hands from each other. You make me scream in a way no one has ever.

When we’re finish, you would light a cigarette as I lay my head in your chest. You’d play with my hair and I caress your stomach. We’d stay like that for a few minutes. Sometimes, when it’s a good day, I keep you for three or four hours. Often, by the end of your second stick, we’re done.

Your phone rings and you curse under your breath and so do I, in my mind. You stood up and scramble around as you look for your phone.

“Hello,” you answered
“Sorry, staying late again, don’t worry, I’m almost done. I’ll be home soon.”
“Yeah, I love you,”

I roll my eyes silently. We need to go, you said. I grudgingly followed you, dressing up. I asked you to zip me up, you kissed me in my shoulders, then my neck and turned me around to face you.

“I’ll make it up for you, I promise,” you said. I smiled and kiss you, believing you again.

She is the reason why we hide, why I end up in that desolate bar. She is the reason why you can’t be mine. I feel bad for her sometimes, does she know that your’re fucking someone else? Does she know that you beg me to do things to you? Does she?

But, you always come home to her and never with me. And yet, here I am, stupidly in love with you even if you’re truly not mine.

The above post is inspired by today’s prompt, Underground.

Daily Prompt

Someone Else


And so, she gave herself to someone else. She has lost the smile she used to give him and replace it with something he can’t recognize. She shared her laughter with someone else, one that sounded strange in his ears. Her heart changed its beat, to a rhythm he couldn’t understand. She gave herself to someone else, when she realized that while she waited for him, someone else was waiting for her.

Daily Post: Waiting

Photo: Unknown