trachel

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The pause by trachel, literature

Denial by trachel, literature

Granddaughter Abroad by trachel, literature

Cloud by trachel, literature

Literature

Cloud

The little girl skips through the cloud, sweet candy floss poised atop a cheap wooden stick, fluff caught in her hair like a pastel pink sheep. But the shroud melts to rain, sweet sugar rain that drenches saccharine the poor little lass as she ducks from the lightning and thunder. Now, the girl walks in the cloud, a grey dirty cell that she dons like a sister's old frock, faded and musty, trudgedly worn. Till a fresh shower comes one day so sudden as the skies are baby blue, brilliantly clear, and washes her nude.

Age by trachel, literature

Literature

Age

She smiles as I enter the room, directed by a chorus of voices announcing my arrival. I wonder whether the recognition came from her memory or from their guided narrative. Her pupils dart from face to face to television screen and into blank space, falling briefly on each before moving away like a child with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. The greys on her head look much the same as they did two months ago, yet her eyes, active but vacuously vacant, dissuade me otherwise. She points to the curtained cubicle across the room and sends instructions for all of us to pay our greetings to her mother. We nod and smile benignly,

Hitchhike by trachel, literature

Literature

Hitchhike

Thank you, sir, for the ride, those fast nights and mild slow dawns. Forgive me, sir, for alighting but the seat's burning up and I'd burn you. So see you later, lover! Remember me between the in-betweens and pick me up somewhere down that dusty road when we're grown, older and wiser and stronger, ready to ride together forever down wide avenues, narrow streets and pathless earth joyously into our electric pink sunset.

A Goodbye by trachel, literature

Literature

A Goodbye

Thank you for leaving this bitter-sour taste in my mouth, a taste like bile that lingers like an unswallowed pill festering in the crevice which you once entered, explored and energised. But now, I spit. I spit out every taste of you, every memory of your conniving, deceitful 'love' And dispose of every image of you and her in my place, in your bed, behind a pleasant white wall in my mind, not to be passed until my heart, which you have force frozen solid, has healed and is ready to feel again. So this is goodbye. Thank you for all the happy days; I hope you felt them. Thank you for all the sad days too; I hope you felt th

One Evening by trachel, literature

Us Thralls by trachel, literature

Toyboy by trachel, literature

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The pause by trachel, literature

Denial by trachel, literature

Granddaughter Abroad by trachel, literature

Cloud by trachel, literature

Literature

Cloud

Age by trachel, literature

Literature

Age

Hitchhike by trachel, literature

Literature

Hitchhike

A Goodbye by trachel, literature

Literature

A Goodbye

One Evening by trachel, literature

Us Thralls by trachel, literature

Toyboy by trachel, literature

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Bedeage

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Coffe Shop Whispers by PKPanda, literature

Literature

Coffe Shop Whispers

I sit here waiting; for my will to return. I can't stop listening. Calculus is so boring... He just broke up with Jenny (A proper bitch. Apparently she slept around.) She's being stifled by her mom (Not allowed out after 12). They're in love, he kissed her and she kissed back. They're just friends, study partners, is anything more boring than a conversation on chemistry? How dull. It’s a heady mixture of human acting; 20 different channels all at once. An intoxicating flow of information. Did you know Chantelle´s real name is Sarah? Or that she had a nose-job? I listen to the two in the corner. I think they're having an affai

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The Binomial Theorem by trachel, visual art

The Binomial Theorem

trachel

About trachel

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Singapore
Deviant for 19 years
She / Her

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My Bio

Current Residence: Singapore
Favourite photographer: Jeff Hahn, Yann Arthus-Betrand
MP3 player of choice: Ipod

Favourite Visual Artist

David

Favourite Movies

Chariots of Fire, The Thomas Crown Affair, Au Revoir les Enfants, Les Choristes, Mona Lisa Smile

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

James Blunt, Keane, Il Divo, Radiohead, Blur, Incubus, Coldplay, Artic Monkeys, the Decemberists

Favourite Writers

Rupert Brooke, Phillip Larkin,Evelyn Waugh, Anthony Powell, George Orwell, Sylvia Plath, Stephen Fry

Tools of the Trade

The Brain

Other Interests

Tennis, Stalking, Reading, Writing, Drawing (in class), Cricket, S----

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trachel

Sep 1, 2007

Anth!

0 min read

History is, strictly speaking, the study of questions; the study of answers belongs to anthropology and sociology. W. H. Auden

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trachel

Aug 29, 2007

Devious Journal Entry

0 min read

i feel: exhausted but happy i want: see bb i am making: nothing... i'm cooking beef this evening t hough! i am wearing: a red top and black shorts... just got back from playing tennis i am trying to decide: if i should be bothered to write my uchicago essays my best friend is:  sin ae, anita and jammy my favourite memory is:LOADS... singing under the stars in botswana (+the hilarious banana and umbrella joke), the goodnight song in mongs! my worst memory is: my nightmares.. my favourite vacation place is: at the mo, i really wanna go to mauritius i am: procastinating i want to be: a journalist for two years and then a housewife wi

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trachel

Jul 17, 2007

Raphael

0 min read

He stood, in a navy polo shirt and khaki shorts, sporting his signature 'silver hairband' (his shades). Yet, I no longer saw him as a picture of cool. It has been three months since I last saw him and three months had changed him, quite completely. Three months had ravaged his young conscience and robbed him of carefree innocence. As he passed through the arrival gate,, he smiled bleakly and I wonder now if it were tears I saw in his eyes; this self-conscious young man never did cry, was he crying now? I could scarcely hold my tears back as he embraced his father, his mother and the friends who had come to welcome him home. He was home and s