I’m a heavy ball of yarn: unravel me and you’ll find nothing special, just

The potential to make something beautiful out of me.



They saw you
but no one ever saw you
in the way I did.
To them you were a silhouette
cast against the walls;
a flower wilted in the dark;
a parch upon the throat
to fade away with time;
a passing, disappearing reference
in the stories to be written.
To me you were more,
you were you:
a seed to flourish and tread,
leaving gentle footsteps
on the hearts of deserving many’s.
You are the laughter in my throat,
the twinkle in my eyes;
and a novel could not contain
the brilliance of your mind.

(I will always be a wallflower, but maybe
I’m alright with that)

Darkness abound

People say that darkness is cold and static, terrifying yet strangely comforting. It has this power to hide the things we don’t want to see, to numb the fears we don’t want to confront, to shrink the parts of ourselves we don’t want to embrace.

But I think darkness is beautiful, because without it, we would never know light. Sometimes darkness may make you cower, but other times it empowers you to have the guts to be yourself.  Darkness is that moment when you are truly left with your own thoughts, lost in your own world, and there’s a silence that lingers in the air. A moving kind of silence that’s you driving on an empty road, window down, a gentle breeze passing into your ears.

It’s dark. And it’s warm.

a music to a heartbeat

The beauty of music, I always thought, was the way you could immerse yourself into it simply by putting on your headphones and the way it deciphered for you those feelings you otherwise had so much trouble deciphering. It was the way it gave you the tears you needed, the heartbeat you yearned for, the flash of life you searched for.

Sometimes when I play the piano, I find myself wondering: how could something black-and-white simultaneously be so rich with memories and emotion? How could something that is in essence just a series of sound patterns, become so meaningful to the ear? Maybe it all rests upon our interpretations of these sounds, our innate abilities to find points of resonance within the music and to connect.

Music was never about isolating yourself from the world, it was always becoming more in tune with it. You turn on the music, block out the white noise and listen to the world as though you are listening to it for the very first time.

a moment’s touch

Happiness. Such a perplexing concept. Buddhism tells us that it’s a permanent state of enlightenment beyond temporary earthly attachments, and that like a lotus flower, you must first push through the muddy waters before you can blossom into something so beautiful and breathtaking. Only when you undergo suffering can you achieve happiness.

Perhaps, in some respects, that is true. But I think that what makes happiness so special and so precious is that it’s fleeting, that it’s not permanent; like a moment’s touch, it warms you but does not stay with you forever. Only its impression lingers in your heart, a memory, a nostalgia for the present, iridescent flashes blurred into one chaotic emotion.

Be happy. A simple statement, a simple concept, but so eternally tangled in complexity and paradox. Some suggest that you are at your happiest when you forget about being happy, much like finding a key that only appears within your line of vision after you’ve stopped looking for it. Happiness is hearing a childhood tune. Eating a slice of chocolate cake. Laughing so hard your stomach aches. Wrapping yourself in warm blankets on a cold winter’s night. It is the rush of something so light yet so profound that clutches onto your heart momentarily before it lets go.

Like an autumn leaf descending, it flies with the wind and refuses to grow lifeless even as it becomes detached from its primary source of life.

Gem #3

Image courtesy of Beth Alexander
Image courtesy of Beth Alexander; Designed/created by Katho28

I remember attempting to paint Vincent Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Starry Night’ at the tender age of eight, and thinking how perfectly those stars resembled tiny suns. It was as if night and day couldn’t help but blend themselves together into one far more intriguing, beautiful sky.

Tomorrow I will begin another chapter in my life, and the thought of moving forward into this new world terrifies me to no end. I will be in unfamiliar territory and I will not know anything with certainty. I will be lost, stumbling, fumbling, trying to find my way around (literally and metaphorically). I will be all alone, a tiny boat in a wide ocean. That’s alright though. Because even if nothing’s sure and steady anymore, I trust that the stars will guide me and that my heart will lead me the right way.

Another piece of me

Part of me has been, is and probably will always be that person who just loves to write, but ever since I took an art class some two years back, I realised how much I also enjoy taking photos of things that all too often go unnoticed because of their familiarity and seemingly unremarkable presence. And what I love about photography is its spontaneity – its potential to capture these details our eyes often glaze over, and to encapsulate emotion at its purest – in its beautiful, thoughtful, at times messy simplicity. Photography helps us reveal the ordinary as extraordinary.

I never told you guys this, but photography was the initial impetus for me to start this blog. The title ‘Into the Forgotten’ is actually a reflection of what I love about photography (and writing too, I suppose) – how it makes us look a little harder, how it gives us the eyes to see those forgotten things… those forgotten miracles.

Of course, the only reason there aren’t more of my own photographs on this blog is because I don’t currently possess a camera (of reasonable quality). However, I’m hoping to buy a camera (or a phone with a good camera) sometime in the near future… When that happens, expect to see an exponential increase in photos on this blog 🙂

In the meantime, here are some photos I took today on my sister’s tablet (which for some reason, would not let me adjust its camera to a soft, blurred focus):

(c) 2015 Katho28
“Tree ferns” (c) 2015 Katho28
"Gazing from above" (c) 2015 Katho28
“Staircase” (c) 2015 Katho28
"Lamplit" (c) 2015 Katho28
“Lamplit” (c) 2015 Katho28
"Peering out" (c) 2015 Katho28
“Peering out” (c) 2015 Katho28
"Closed" (c) 2015 Katho28
“Closed” (c) 2015 Katho28

That’s it for now 🙂 Hope you enjoy this post – just thought to do something a little different today.

Monster in my head

(NOTE: this is a work of fiction)

There’s a monster laid within my head who’s
ripping springs and chewing strings,
unravelling cords that bind my broken heart within.
Such a sneaky set of teeth it must possess!
to have the superpower
to so simply tear apart my strands of
horrible uncertainty,
and gnaw away the knots of fear
that’s fastened tight around my throat.

You’re not an ‘it’, I realise, but a paradox
of beauty in disaster; a breath in breathlessness –
unusual piece of messy art whose every bitten laugh is
drawn upon my messy mind,
eating up my every thought – except the one that wonders why

so eagerly you swallow all my bitter tears,
embrace my pain with yours; why you
reach beyond my chest and into tangled mess,
viewing all the cracks and crevices with a gentleness that
every other eye neglects?
Tell me why you lay so close when I am all but warm –
other creatures run away, why do you choose to stay?

But you bare your teeth at questions from my doubtful lips, and
enclose your arms about my frosty chest, till I’m melting

little by little, till I’m bare and warm and
ocean wide – unbound by ropes, and sailing into
vastness, away from narrow visions washed ashore.
Entranced I am by flaws that make you not monstrous but
daringly human – daring to love, daring to be loved.

(c) 2015 Katho28