When Six Aeroplanes Came Down Crashing

I am still a bedspacer.I am still living in the same boarding house for nearly half a decade.Quite some time.

Arrived in 73 Molave Street when i was still a lanky 17 year old, excited to get into a university i deemed to be my savior from the fatal boredom of suburban college life.The old house structure was a smaller version of the shrieking shack -- t'was dark, damp and small. But hey, it was just a stone's throw away from UP so it was a good deal after all.

My landlady lost her eldest daughter to a nephritic disorder a little more than a year ago and now she just lost her father to senescence. I do feel sorry for her. I am not really fond of forlorns and funerals.

A couple of days ago her father's life support was removed. It was only the pacemaker that was generating the spikes in the cardiogram. We were in the backyard, i was armed with my toothbrush, ready to proceed to the sink and brush the day away and then sleep like a sloth.

She was there doing some laundry and of course i asked about his father's condition as i thought it was courteous to do so. Her father's life support was removed.She then launched into a myriad of tales about her father. His father is a ww2 vet. A highly decorated one. On one occasion he managed to shoot down six jap aeros. It just really amazes me that a person who once commanded the fate of hundreds succumb to senescence and submit oneself to the suffering of old age.

Death is the great equaliser.

Grains of sands are falling marking the passing of time. I am not getting any younger and now i am weary of living. Maybe it is indeed a blessing to die young.