by Susan Abraham

placed a series of anecdotes below made up of personal observations while in  Dublin.

Notwithstanding the fact that I hoard an assortment of matchbox pieces in my Facebook ‘Note’ closet or  buried in the burrows of another old blog, please know that you can retrieve them anytime from ‘Diary Jottings’ as  I suspect my collection is likely to be spaced out  in an erratic manner.

I wanted to treat this blog as a conjured adventure since my life is moulded to one of a delicious nomadic madness; I can only allude to the mysterious results of my Christian prayers. I thought it would be interesting to see the books I would yearn for on my travels or the reads that themselves would journey afar to shadow me. In Dublin, I stay sedentary and restful. I also seem to connect blissfully with my inner child.

I trace a vague trail back to my childhood from as early as 4 in Malaysia. To put it in a nutshell, with Malaysia being under British rule and the remnants of this history, easily visible for years afterwards, I was always immersed in books that flooded our stores from England. My mother would when in a gay mood, sit me on her lap, read me stories and sing me songs.  My father would slip a picture book  under his arms every other day, that he turned up weary from work.

Perhaps that is why with a child’s desire to dream of travel even then – the very idea of the West being filled with a magical enchantment, I would now blanketed on the other side of the fence, return to my inner child in a silent way with which to consult, exchange memories and to keep notes.

This makes me strangely alive to all the everyday ordinary things that once more fill me with the starry-eyed imagination and wonder that guarded me when little. The foundation for each little Dublin story stems from a true scene with the exception that I resurrect it afterwards to a robust picture. Perhaps I never really grew up.


2 responses to this post.

  1. And please, never do grow up, Susan. It’s a joy for us to share your life-like accounts of adventures, memories and ordinary experiences.


  2. Thank you dear Bhas for reading. You are all so kind. xx


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: