to have a children’s bookstore. Just like this one at Club Street. I was at Ann Siang today for work and had abit of time. I walked to Books Actually that used to be near Amoy where I got my Moleskine London Guide. It has three stories now and I had to exercise all willpower not to buy anything. I went into Little Drom Store and looked at the cakes at K Ki. I wished very much to be a tai tai to spend afternoons roaming in bookstores and little quaint stores (and having the money to buy things even though I do not work). But the pang I felt in Books Actually did not prepare me for the longing I would feel when I walked into Books in the Woods. All the Dr Seuss, Richard Scarry’s, Madelines just sat there. Just like a dream. There were Chinese kids books and even Japanese (I think, I could not look too close in case I could not leave). A book called ‘Wo Tao Yen Mama’ ‘I hate Mama’ made me laugh.

I would give my kidney to have a shop like that. I would even give my heart or my liver but that kind of defeats the purpose. I would even be nice to children if they visited because their parents would buy the books and children who read are alright in my book. I would have a helium tank and have fresh balloons all the time. For children who were funny, I would give them candy if they did not scream. (Point aside: I made a baby cry in Far East on Monday. It was ridiculous but hilarious. I did not do anything though.)

As dreams go, the one I am currently chasing seems to be leading in a dead end. Yesterday I was at the most magical little store. The owner had a bowl haircut too and she loved the Beatles too. But as I attempted to make conversation, it was not very forthcoming and I felt a tiny shy and stupid. Have you ever met someone whom you wanted to make friends with so much but they did not seem to want to give you the time of the day?

It happened today again. I was just trying to fill the silence in the air with a PR girl. I wanted to say that ‘For god’s sake, you are in PR!’. Maybe I have not been long in this and maybe she was tired and not feeling it.

It is true, I am not cut out for publishing. My style of writing is not what they require for magazines and I wear my feelings on my sleeve. I smile when I do not feel like but I do not like to show a face to people especially when they do not deserve it. Am polite even when the situation may not call for it. I know where I stand but … Maybe I was wrong. I guess twenty seven is really too old to start over again.