Primary colours

How is it possible that in the flash-bang-crackle-pop explosion of red, I am feeling outrageously blue?

(no more of the "I feel.." stuff now. This is not going to be a soppy sappy blog.)

The inner cactus in me is actively guzzling water, and taking in everyone and everything and every body that passes by, letting out in small pricks the occasional heatwave of anger.

Now if only I could let the thorns rain on the man in the hospital who shouts "nian2 qing1 gu1 niang0..." (lit. young lady) ad infinitum ad nauseum everytime I pass my brother's bed (which is directly in front of his). I could practically hear the leer in his voice. Ugh. And you know how the hospital beds have this label to inform the nurses about the language you speak? This man speaks both English and Chinese but his label reads 'non-communicative'.

A young Indian teenager lies handcuffed to the bed, while two policemen watch. He is handcuffed to a policeman wherever he goes (which is limited to the toilet and the toilet). Poor policeman.