Les Petits Contes

About life's little observations, which matter. About hilarious situations, which illuminate. About stories which offer immense possibilities, open endings, different interpretations and perspectives.

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Location: Singapore

A nature lover; sun-worshipper, manic book-collector, dessert-devourer and a magnet for hazards

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

Response to ''Paris en Hiver''

Le Figaro ‘’papier mache’’
When I was a kid my school teacher taught us how to make objects with newspaper dough, using Straits Times or Lianhe Zaobao, not Le Figaro.

Sometimes we would use old postage stamps instead, to have a dash of colour instead of the usual black and white.

Sometimes we did not ‘’blend crazily’’, but tore the newspapers into pieces instead, and added glue or paste to the water and paper mess.

I remember once I used the ‘’tearing method’’ to create a little bowl and left it outside, at the balcony of my HDB flat, to dry.

A few hours later when I went to retrieve it, the bowl was totally destroyed – some vandals had smashed it and strewn the papers all over the floor.

How I howled and cried! My ‘’masterpiece’’ had been destroyed! How could anyone be so evil?

It felt like the end of the world. My mum and brother tried to console me, but I was inconsolable.

As a kid, even a little broken paper bowl mattered so much, and hurt. Today, I face a lot more hurts, and more things are ‘’broken’’ – the heart, the spirits, relationships. But, have I forgotten how it felt to hurt and howl like a child?

Hundred letters a week
I have always enjoyed writing letters in my growing up days. Those were the days when emails and instant messages were unheard off. To communicate, you either used the phone (not mobile) or letters, or pieces of paper.

I remember exchanging letters with my buddy in school. Even though we saw each other every day in class. Then one day, I suggested that we should send each other letters, ‘’using proper envelopes and stamps’’. She agreed. Even though we lived only a few blocks away from each other.

Such a thrill to receive letters in the mail box. It felt so ‘’grown up’’.

Today, the only ‘’letters’’ we receive in the mail box are probably ‘’junk mails’’ and bills. Very grown up too, I guess.

Rose des quatres vents
What a romantic name for compass. Is that why French men are so romantic?

I know it means totally different things, but the phrase, when you look at it (we call it ‘’visual rhyme’’ in poetry), reminds me of ‘’rose quartz’’.

Rose quartz is a sweet romantic pink semi precious stone, symbolising love and relationship.

How romantic!


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