Hard labour

From time to time, I will run into people I know from Uni wearing business suits striding down in Melbourne CBD. They look not much different from Uni times, except for no more jeans and saggy big school bags. A big black business suit case is their access now. For most of the time, we won’t stop to curtsy each other, only a blink or a tiny nod says we have met before but have nothing to say now. Well, this is the real world.

I have been doing hard labour in the past a couple of weeks to pack and move my six-year’s of junk to my aunt’s garage. Now, my bookshelf and wardrobe is half empty. The next step will be moving my shoes and electronic device. Aii …… every time of moving, we have to learn to give up something in order to move on. A lot of tears have been shredded; more are expected in the remaining weeks.