I hauled myself up the stairs. Just this morning i had woken up with flu carried on from yesterday. Not quite the perfect feeling in the hours of wake. My throat was sore and all, dammit.
I guess i have this bcos i slept and took a bath immediately. Note to self: Never do that again, serious shit.
What i can write today...? Obviously nothing happened. How do you like the rose i put up there? I think its kind of nice.. Ben told me to change the supra, so i did. i got this reflective art that's really cool, its below:
Look closely. You will see a face on the chrome metal part. Dunno how they did it, though.
As usual, it rained and i had to get a jacket on.
Then i took a car to the doctors...
...And shaved part of a field with my father's razor on the way home.
Oh yeah, my tution teacher showed me this poem:
This poem was nominated by the UN as the best poem of 2006
Written by an African Kid:
When I born, I black
When I grow up, I black
When I go in Sun, I black
When I scared, I black
When I sick, I black
And when I die, I still black
And you white fellow
When you born, you pink
When you grow up, you white
When you go in sun, you red
When you cold, you blue
When you scared, you yellow
When you sick, you green
And when you die, you gray
And you calling me colored ??
No,im serious! i know this sounds like a joke, okay it is funny, but its written by a african kid.
Ahh, what the hell...
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