I Learned Nothing

If the sea should swallow up my house,

I will turn the rooftop inside out

A faint breeze tempers the scorching sun, burning bright but not unkindly overhead, shining benevolently over this sleepy seaside town. The wind rouses the vegetation to life; corn and chili plants begin to stir in quite contentment of the weather. Enclosed in a reserve area off the coast, hidden away from sight of the town and sea but near enough to smell the salt in the air, as the breeze picks up in speed and brings the ocean into the farm.

All the elements, I do not fear

But I fall apart when you appear

The rigid rows of corn lined in single files on numbered acres; a sea of corny goodness spilling out before the eyes like yellow-ish MnM's on a plate. The plot of land presents pathways along the plants, pathways for inspection as well as introspection for those seeking kernels of wisdom. I could not resist a corny joke. But in the searing heat amongst corn that challenges for height nothing but green can be seen in every direction except up, as my yellow Phua Chu Kang boots invade the cadence treading carefully forward towards a natural clearing in the field.

I reach the space in between pathways and plants created by a misplaced planting and crouch down, shaded by the leaves, ears of corn and my Asian sombrero. I'm cheating as I wanted to get away from farmer's monologue; my father and his farmer friends are talking chili and my presence is far from required, for when adorned in my boots, hat and long clothes I'm just another worker on a purported lunch break. Or the farmer's son. Either way, I'm surplus.

Nobody said it was easy.

I've brought along A Fine Frenzy and Coldplay to help indulge in the moment as all else I have for company is nature, calming and agitating at the same time. I'm a city dreamer living in trees in an urban jungle, playing music that no one will listen to, writing words that no one will read and dreaming visions no one will see. The agrarian world is made for me, or it may not be. I hold my phone like a tasbih, not as a symbol for modernity or it's ilk but connectivity to a place I know, tempted by full reception. Sometimes I can't help but feel disconnected from the world. For better or worse it depends, but for today and those preceding I will attempt to make sense of these last few weeks, and the many weeks more to come.

Day One.