The Elderly Lady With An American Accent

She may have passed away a long time ago, the elderly lady who taught me how to pronounce “refrigerator” with an American accent. I wonder if she could hear my whispers, the unspoken words. Continue reading “The Elderly Lady With An American Accent”

That moment

This is a delayed post, which is all about a moment captured on Thursday, 24 May 2018.

When I was walking up the hills towards the kindergarten, I saw some children waving at me enthusiastically from the sandbox. My little son William was among them. I noticed his shy smile. He had a rather reserved expression. He was proud, was he not? My visit was not unexpected as it turned out. The children knew they were going to have a very special reading time. A beautiful story about a crocodile named Clyde, told by the mother of William, written by her lovely blog friend Suzanne.

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A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever

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Her heart was beating fast as she swiped the card. It was a considerable amount. The dark-blue velvet box was being wrapped in carefully with silver gift paper. The movement of her fingers was flexible and gentle. The woman in the jewellery shop knew how to treat items of this kind.

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A story about two lecturers

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I gazed intently at the whiteboard trying to catch the essence of what she was illustrating. The examples showed how Old English changed and developed into Middle English. One of the important features was the words in Old English started loosing their inflections.
And then I heard a slight noise. What was it? I looked out the window. The fresh-cut grass was bathed in warm, spring sunlight. The leaves of birches had turned into a deep shade of green. It was very quiet, even the birds seemed to have taken a rest on this beautiful Thursday afternoon in April.

The window of an old house

The window of my bedroom faces a huge wooden house. Someone told me it was listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It must’ve gone through both WW1 and WW2. What happened to the people living in the house during the wars? Who were they? Did they have a good life? Any tragedies happened to these families? I had many questions.

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The elderly lady at the university

I saw her again, the elder lady in her seventies, who was sitting in the corner of the blue fabric sofa outside the library. She was reading a newspaper, all her attention was paid to the front page it seemed, she didn’t turn the page. A half-empty lunch box was placed just beside her, she had already finished her coffee.

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