Clowns

We all know them.. The painted faces, stark white with that huge smile. Painted on of course. That day when I arrived at the Ipoh Bus station, I saw this clown boy (do we even say that? Clown boy, clown girl?) who skipped into the bus station. All eyes are on him of course. I mean, a clown buying bus tickets??? Is it that normal?

In the end, under all that makeup, there’s a person.

(21/10/2008) I stopped here.

 

11/06/09

Continued…..

 

A person with a name.. Who maybe loves smearing peanut butter on a bar of chocolate, just because he likes it. 

 Or maybe someone who’s taking blows from a husband in a dark corner in the room, trying to believe in that man she once loved..

Or maybe someone who’s climbing up that tree outside her house.. so that she can reach and touch the clouds. 

I don’t know why… this was a long-forgotten draft.. 

And this poured out from the memories..  

 

 

We’re clowns.. all of us.

The president who is trying to make his government work,

the teacher who is trying to not fall in love with his student,

the firefighter who rushes into the burning building, trying to fill his head with the thought of the  victim instead of his family’s grief when they find him dead…

 

 

Things like that..