I compiled most of my poems today on a whim. I wanted to send them home to baba along with all my paintings.
The time I have been writing these poems, I have always whined about not having "inspiration" enough for poetry. I hadn't traveled much, for example, I didn't have stories to tell, I hadn't had disasters enough.

On retrospect, I indeed still had adventures. I had the luck to know, love and be loved by some wonderful human beings. Parts of them still exists and will always exist within me. I had been able to experience moments, moments that have left behind imprints in my soul and have left behind trails of lyrics -  poetry that will stay through every layer of my epidermis being shed.