Stagnant Society

Written by Tomaz Goh
Imagine roads without arrows
That doesn't cross between each other
It's funny they built to passage us through
Heading the same direction but not the agenda

We saw colour lights that regulated us
We do catch up for people to catch us up
We travel the same distance that seems too constant
We move and halt together and nothing else really matter

lights flashes and people crashing shoulders
I'm not moving even when I keep walking

Am I on my driver seat?
Am I steering my own wheel?

Directing everyone's journey in the fast lane
We can only be as fast as the person in front
Sitting there envisioning our life passing us through
I closed my eye for the moment to save time for tomorrow

I'm not afraid to stand still in the middle of the crowd
Cuz i know that time will still tick, heart will still pound
Rising above my horizon with my mind in heaven zone
Elevating myself from this stagnant society

All We Need is Air

Written by Tomaz Goh
She don't says a single thing
She just howl or weep when the pain is deep
Do we really even care

When the cold wind start to chill
When the sunlight start to shine and sink
It doesn't matter anymore

Touch her heart and feel the heal
Your pretenseful words don't feel a guilt
Feeling alone and nothing more
They wrapped us in the cocoon of scorn

Help ourselves, break free
Help ourselves, and breathe
Help ourselves, put the roots and seeds
We don't need the superficial

Let's put the life back to where it came
The love we show plants the gracious being
Take a deep breathe and fill your lung
All we need is air...

A Foolish Generation

Contributed by Fungus
You like your freedom
You treasure your liberty
You are eloquent in your speech
You wear your moods on your sleeve

But why are you so foolish?
Why do you squander your life away?
You speak as one with no knowledge
Your mood swings like a pendulum

Your feet is not grounded on wisdom
Your will is not moved by good sense
Your mouth is not tamed by prudence
Your heart is not instructed by truth

O foolish generation
When will you take an honest look at yourself?
When will you stop to listen at your own folly?
When will you turn and do what it right?

The time is now, not tomorrow.
Sow a discipline, reap a habit
From a habit, build a character
Be a discerning man this day.

Fox Town

Written by Tomaz Goh
I reached this place without much to expect
breathing the fresh air that emits from this old town
Seems so familiar but I know this is the first sight
I crawled along the empty street like an old lady does
Glaring the both ends to find where Im used to belong

Here I am, still scratching my dear old scattered brain
I know I left my baggage behind and so is my chores
I don't see people criss crossing in front of my path
Pushing a button and now you are in the time machine

Hello, you know me?
My origin is labelled in my red passport
Putting a name to me but never expect me to be here
They say you can't leave aside your weary load
But I say I will give up for the mountain and goats

The canvas keeps me dry from the drizzling rain
My feet are light with the strapped boots
I hold your hands and pull you onto the good old stumpy
If you believe me there's dream within this fox town
I like to take you to the top of the glacier peak
To see how amazingly small our world is becoming

The Candy Child

Written by Tomaz Goh
Feeding through the aperture
Numbers that have actually lost count
Like the raindrops that fall from the sky

Soaking in heavy shoes and socks
I felt my heart was planted down below
Like a curtain of blind that separates
The light and candle from a distance end

She wished that she can be more vocal
but was determined by her fragile torso
Syringe of depressed she's injected with
The solvent melts the soul more than the shell

Strand of thoughts starts falling off
While caching the somber memories concurrently
When the skin rub the surface of the bone
She know it will be December soon

Falling as light as winter snow
But hits me merciless like a stone throw
She weeps when the spring delay
My heart stoned deep when the rain falls

Seeking shelter under angel's wings
Growing strong from the warmth within
Shower and braving the weather solitarily
grasping the melting candy in her hand with faith

The Rainy Day

Contributed by Fungus
The sky is broken
Large sheets of water keep pouring
Soaking the earth, shoes and clothes
Wet. Thoroughly wet.

Where did all the water comes from?
Will the clothes dry well?
When will the rain ever stop?
Why? Thoroughly befuddled.

I wish to snug up at home
In bed under the warmth of my blanket
Listening to lazy tunes.
Nice. Pleasurable thought.

Today is a day to take it slow.
To enjoy a cuppa.
To chill-out.
To hide in the cocoon of the cascading rain.

What happened?

Essay contributed by Fungus
09 Aug 2005
A hot sluggish afternoon.The nationalistic revelers were making their way to the Padang.

Decked in my baggy Bermudas, and donning a comfortable tee, I sashayed down the walkway in my favourite Diesel sneakers... feeling jolly. I've just spent the last 45min circling a particular store, deciding whether I should part with my dollars and purchased the object of my desire. Finally, I bought it.

I smiled to myself as a funny thought crossed my mind "Haha... I'm so comfortable in my tomboyish gear, any guy who falls for me must be quite a character. Hahaha..."

With that funny thought still lingering in my mind, I gave a gentle kick to the fallen leaves on the floor. Baked to a brownish shade, the leaves gave off a crisp protest as it made contact with my shoe, floated slightly into the mid air and settled down with a sigh.

Hahaha... I jumped onto the narrow beam separating the greens from the pavement and tried to balance myself as I onward forward go, fighting for space with the busy red ants, whose peace was greatly disturbed by a pair of size 7 diesel shoes. Haha... I laughed nonchalantly, inwardly.

I lifted my head from looking at the aggravated ants and saw another group of newly alighted revelers from the bus. Red. White. Red. White. Somehow, the usual social embarrassment of being found dressed in similar style is thrown out of the window during this public holiday. Interesting.

Yee... That looks like a familiar face. Do I know her?

For not wanting to be caught staring, I averted my eyes. She walked nearer.

The corner of her lips hooked into a gentle smile. Recognition registered.

"(name)(I'm leaving this anonymous to protect the privacy of my friend)?! Hi. You going out?" I said stupidly, suffering from autism and shock.

She nodded her head, smiled, and walked on.

For that instant, two images juxtaposed itself on my cerebrum. Past and present.

Present. Before me stood a skinny girl whose face looked wane. The eyes were dull. Dark shadows sat below those eyes. The shoulder slumped as if laden with a load of care.

Past. A year ago. Her face porcelain white. Her hair soft, long and glowing. The depths of her eyes were dancing and a ready smile lingered at the corner of her lips. There was lightness in her steps.

Same scenario. Me on my way home. She on her way out. She was laughing and chatting with her hubby and another young couple then. Apparently, I found out later from a mutual friend, she and her husband had just come back from completing their Master degree in London.

I did not greet her then. She looked so happy and I did not want to disturb that beautiful moment by intruding in. I walked past. Rejoicing with her.

What happened?
Suddenly, all my earlier musings seem so trivial and childish.

What happened?
I recalled the book which I've just finished reading that morning - "The Virgin Suicides".

What happened?
Life is light as air, and yet as dense. It is quietly, slyly funny, while strumming its melancholic notes.
Behind each life is a confounding mystery.

What happened?

Black Sacred Door

Written by Tomaz Goh
Tony faced the music, running away from those stare
Looking exhausted, looking into our eyes without dare
He smoked too long a dizzy puff
Thinking he's the special man yet he crashed on the land

Tony buy the world and build his yard
Guarding his asset with dogs that bite
He spree his cash and let the figure fool
The loaded man behave like a corporate whore

Where the money blink is where he did his crime
Little by little he drained the silver from us
Singing the tune of the virtual lord
Tony and friends hide behind that black sacred door

Peek through the door and we saw Tony at the chamber hall
Tony not alone, Tony not alone playing his own voodoo
Making love with his alter ego that blinded us
Tony have done it too far and blowing the trumpet with all attempts

Tony left the mansion and left the mess
Going by the back door into the rainforest
Tony left without a penny and without a respect
But who can forget what he did behind that black sacred door

Smudged

Written by Tomaz Goh
Taking your emotion for granted
Until I felt the hard slapped that I realised it all
Together with my tainted soul
I thrown my faith deep down the abysmal well
There's no where I could climbed back up
leaves me wretched and struggled

I've smudged my face
I've smudged my hands
I've smudged my heart that visible to you
I left the memories discolored

Reaching out to heaven no more
I was reduced and rooted on earth
In the absence of my conscience
I'm rotting six feet under you
I tried to make amend to voice my words
But there's only soil that came out from my throat

I've disregard my concerns
I've contempt my judgement
I've scorned my soul that means so much to you
I can only drowned myself in despair and regrets

When Amor Plays

Co-written by Tomaz Goh & Angelia Seetoh
When you wear the pledge around your finger,
Memories emerge subtly yet surely through my fuzzy mind.
Overtaking my thoughts in all their beauty
Each memory a fraction from a jigsaw of a thousand tiles

Like butterflies born to the fragrances of spring,
Freeing from the cocoon, leaving the greyness of life behind.

It's not the dust that wets my eyes,
but rather your existence in my very sight.
Not fault or sorrow that keeps them from being dry
But our sweet memories burning in my mind.

Worry not, as the cycle doesn't end here,
After the winter, spring always blossoms.
Grasp and hold on tightly with fear no more,
Now bask in a new warmth enveloping you like a cloud.

The day when Amor hovers above us
in a celebration of trumpets and drums,
Revealing the logic of our love in this mystery of life.
We had carted down a stoney road, but now we find an aurora path,
where an eternal playground awaits the two of us.

The Calendar Girl

Written by Tomaz Goh
When the blanket top of me
feel so uneasy,
but I wouldn't want to be separated from it
The light is too glaring to be ignore
I edged myself closer to be awaked
yet feel as though I've been stuck in the quicksand of time.

Dazing through the space
I find no indication,
to be or not to be the person that I know myself of
Counting the toes and those fingers
wished the day could follow my rhythms
But I know my feet still stands still from where it's should be.

Sticking my head out of the window
Feeling my mind like a blowup airbag
I keep on turning the pages and mark off the days that has gone by
Looking forward to the new empty cells
I laughed at myself as that was just a empty journal of my life.

Paper Doll

Written by Tomaz Goh
I put the bouquet beside your bed
Never wanted to disturb you
Unable to count the number of days
That I sat and whisper in total daze.

I got no indication to face the stare
grasping the cold breathe that fills the air
Thinking of the vacation we should have been tonight
indulge in the flood of the neon street light.

Memories clocked back when we shared the time
Those are the days when I saw your shines
I grabbed your cold hard stony hand
Hoping your lips to break out from the usual tense.

Watching you lying motionless in that corner
I thought you're just a paper doll
Patiencely waiting for that smile of faith
It's the only futile dream that I can related.

You can't talk, You can't smile
You can't Wink, You can't bother
And if it's the way that will last
I wished I'll go the with you the same path...

The Waiting Game

Contributed by Fungus
I.
Straining to see beyond the furthest horizon, I squinted my eyes to catch the first visible sight of the person I was waiting for. Thousand thoughts raced through my mind:

"Does she know which bus-stop to alight?"
"Did she get my directions right?"
"I better step out of the shade into the sun to make myself more visible."

My heart thumped faster as the seconds ticked by. A glance at my mobile phone clock and a search into the faraway junction became a ritual that I repeated with increasing frequency.

"Should I give her a call to find out her whereabouts? Hmm... no, she'll call me if she's lost."
"Why on earth is the bus taking so long?"

The much-awaited bus came into sight. It crawled towards the bus stop and finally stopped. Passengers streamlined out. I waited in anticipation. But there was no sight of her. With a sigh and a quickened heart pace, I once again took position at my watch stand.

Straining to see beyond the furthest horizon, I squinted my eyes to catch the first visible sight of... ai, wait a minute, that silhouette looks familiar. The shadow crept closer. I caught the colour of her dull uniform and that distinctive saunter. It's her!

In that moment, I wondered...
"Should I walk towards her so that she doesn’t need to cross that long distance to reach me?"
"Where shall I fix my eyes now? If I look at her, will it embarrass her for being late? Aiyah, too bad she can't catch my smile to see that it's okay."

I waited with a ready smile. During that spilt second, anxiety was replaced with gladness. I am glad that she has found her way. She came.


II.
Oh no! I am running late and the stupid bus never seem to come when you must urgently need it to.

Bus 88 came. I boarded it. My ordeal began. The pangs set in... stomachache!

S***!!!!

The bus trip was much faster and shorter than expected. I was early. Without further delay, I walked into a nearby school in search of a place of relief. Found the room... but it was a false alarm. No output. Checking the time, I speed walked towards the waiting place.

Hope I didn't keep her waiting.

Beep beep beep. My handphone sounded. I have received a sms. "Sorry, I will be late", it read.

Settling down on a seat at the bus-stop. I pretended to look busy while I waited. Beep beep beep. My handphone sounded again. This time, it read: "Walk towards the Mental Hospital. Turn right at the junction. I am there walking towards you."

Haha... this is fun. It's like a game.

I followed the instructions. As I round the corner, I saw her. Our eyes met and I waved to say "hi". As I inched towards her, I found myself picking up pace and ended up running towards her.

The physical distance was short but it presented an immense psychological distance for me. I feel awkward. I don't know where to look... I simply can't let her wait any longer.


III.
The waiting game is a common activity that we all play. In my life, I realized that I have an elastic scale to my patience thermometer when it comes to waiting. For some, a mere five minutes wait proved too much a stretch to my tolerance level while for others an whole hour is fine. I guess this reflects the importance of that person in my life and my perception of him or her in relation to myself. So, it would seem that the waiting game is more than just a harmless activity that we are engaged in; a silent message has been sent each time we make someone waits.

Sinking

Contributed by Fungus
It's a suction power that I can't explain
A deep sense of inertia that I can't seem to ward off
Sinking. Sinking into the humdrum of inactivity

Mental inactivity - a perfect nestling ground for sluggishness
The spider of monotony is turning every movement into a mechanical motion
Deadening the soul, corroding its passion
It is weaving its web of rust in my brain

To live as deeply and thoroughly as possible
To deal with the reality of life
To discover truth, create beauty and act out love
Truisms, which my eroded strength finds hard to aspire

It is a flat plain that I am treading on
With no sight of a mountain to scale, nor
A molehill to elevate the dull scene with an inspiring goal
A desert of plainness, an abundance of sameness
Waning hope, desensitised senses
Yearning for a way to escape the great space of emptiness

A Poignant Moment

Contributed by Fungus
Isolated, by itself, what is a minute? Merely a measurement of time. There are 60 in an hour, 1,440 in a day. But yet locked in that space of time, it can be such a poignant moment. To dissect that moment into granular components would be almost impossible because the brain move at such a high speed that one couldn't be quite definite in differentiating an afterthought from an immediate resultant response to a cognitive stimulus. Nonetheless, I shall attempt to do just that - to put words into that poignant moment which could otherwise be dismissed as just a mere display of personality trait.

Compressed within time, a tidal wave of thoughts with its accompanying emotional responses hit me. My mind operated so fast, a myriad of subsidiary thoughts developed from there. To name the more salient one: I was deeply afraid that I've done something wrong.

Absolutist

Written by Tomaz Goh
I saw you everywhere,
I can hear you almost anywhere...
And your frequency covers all men's land.

Your playground is people's disorientated mind.
Toying, tuning, aligning to suit your whims
You indoctrinate with the aim to dominate
You terminate and you act like a primate.

Absolutist. You bring us down to elevate you up.
You ain't god that tell us what to do.
Your promises seem like brittle eggshells,
Flimsy and fractural to everyone else.

You've got wings that's only visible to your ambitious self,
Soaring to the height to differentiate your might.
You hardly burden your hands that are meant to serve
Binding us instead to feed the crow...

You talk, you fox and you rot!
Absolutist, You bring us down to step you up.
You ain't god that governs what we want.
People can't discern you coz you talk behind a mask,
But you can't disguise your horns that are protruding out.

But I don't care, don't really care,
I gonna cut off both your crooked wings…

Craving for that Warmth

Written by Tomaz Goh
When the rain drenched the midnight empty street
You were in your room fidgeting and losing some sleep

Rain it down till the water reflects on the ground
And wash away what your heart is feeling foul
With streetlight lighten the darkest fog
And the rain fills up the deepest spot

Realising how you wish when you're not alone
Coldness seep in and you find the warmth that's use to exist
Seeking for a blanket that surround and envelope you
Feeling the temperature is all you know
Trying to dig back the memories that fill your thoughts
And before you can tell where you feel belong

The rain and wind came sweeping through the space
And disappeared with everything before you ever realise it
You shed tear for that moment but you didn't understand
Cause you were waiting for that miracle end

Parallel

Written by Tomaz Goh
The only time we share, The world seem to stand still.
Undaunted by the surrounding, we envelope in the vaccum of space.

In the moment of sane, I see you through your vocal tone.
I thought I know you better, but I experience you more from your voice.

I dismantle and reassemble you again, on and on and on.
I couldn't fix your peg, cuz I could find the right piece of you.
Am I not knowing you better? Am I not understanding you deeper?
Im standing tip-toe to see you from the top, yet your face is not visible to view.

Im standing tall but not tall enough to see beyond the world,
Im listening to the voice but not voices from the heart.
Im touching you but my hand are numb and stoned,
I couldn't fix you and Im losing you pieces by pieces.

Maybe you couldn't see what i see.
Maybe you couldn't heard my voices on the top.
Maybe you don't feel my presence when I present.
Maybe just maybe, I should have bend down and be parallel to you.

Hall of Lame

Lame writing by Tomaz Goh
Lamer don't know they are Lame.
They think they are in the Fame.

But Fame is not always Lame.
yet Lame cannot equal to any Fame.

So if you are pretty Lame,
Doesn't mean you have all the Fame.

If you ever get into any Fame,
This is becos you are utterly Lame.

People do get into the Hall of Fame,
kudos if you get into the Hall of Lame.


Delicated to the Lamers of the world. As i say, you don't really know you are that lame. That Including me. haha.

Walk the Beach Road

Written by Tomaz Goh
leaving behind me the trail of neon-light flash,
Im sitting in the cab wondering how my day has past.
A simple road that stretches from east to west,
a cross road that came together to meet my friends.

Am i wondering, who walk the walk beside you and me.
Feel like questioning, who else find their joys just like me.

I've being there, strolling there, walking there.
Laying my feet on that concrete crack.
Showing my existence when no one there's to mind,
seeing the time passes by without saying goodbye.

Am i wondering, who walk the walk beside you and me.
Feel like questioning, who else find their joys just like me.

Distance so far that we have to move,
but alway meet up here in my Beach Road.

Tainted Tongue

Written by Tomaz Goh
Closed my mouth, I didn't dare to edge a word.
Grind my teeth, that the only way to articulating.

Losing the ability to talk, i ain't no more than a lone crippler.
Couldn't figure how much more, banish to the wicked few minors.

Tainted Tongue, this not what i asking for.
Tainted Tongue, Paint it's scarlet red no more.
I speak through the hole, bleeding and swelling.
I can't voice it anymore, Cuz it's degenerating.

Biting my wounded lips, I swallowed my own wishful words.
Torturing my inner soul, I'm living in a speechless empty world.

Tainted Tongue, this not what i asking for.
Tainted Tongue, Paint it's scarlet red no more.
I speak through the hole, bleeding and swelling.
I can't voice it anymore, Cuz it is degenerating.

Don't expect me to smile,
Don't expect me to lick,
Don't expect me to talk with a Tainted Tongue.

Proposition

Written by Tomaz Goh
What can two warheads, the creative vs the Account Development spark when come head to head?

Most of the time we experience the blood-shed moment from these two extreme living beings, fighting with each others, but for the same cause. Both got the same motive. Creative wants the end result to shine, Account wants the end result to sell. Both means better and more postive outcome from the creativity overhaul. One side came out a "brilliant concept to shine/sell", the other shot down mercilessly.

What went wrong? What's the problems?
I'm not a account servicing people. I not in their shoes. I can't speak for them. But i will addressed creativity obstacles.
When the lethal bullets is out. aim to the creative in the simulated client's perspective, lot of concern is been rised up. "Concept too over the top... Where's the added essence... Have we addressed all angles... we afraid to flash the joker card... Shall we go back to the safe concept..."

There's lot of questions popping up when internal critic session is concern. But one thing for sure, you dont start to fear the worst only after the first concept is born. Concern like these is package together with the brief. why? how?

This is because we dont just started to understand client only after our first idea have juiced out. And definitely not because the account services people like to reserve the "killer punch" and hit that killer blow to the creative until they have came out with their input. A standard brief shouldn't be just a textsheet of CLIENT'S REQUIREMENTS, it's should, however includes "blind mines" to watch out for.

What are "Blind Mines"? They are the invisible "guideline" and "Regulations" that the creative have to keep strictly to.Those blood boiling questions that raised up during the internal critic."Concept too over the top... Where's the added essence... Have we addressed all angles... we afraid to flash the joker card... Shall we go back to the safe concept..." there we go again...

When a single-minded proposition is determined, everybody shall agreed and work towards it. Direction, the route that the client has set and wanted us to drive forward, is the way to reach their(and ours) pre-plan business purposes. Concept, is the key message that underline the whole project, and vehicle to bring everyone to the targetted destination of our goal. It's has to be clear, crystally clear.

There's no room for what if. If we goin to be flicker-minded about our own creativity, so do other people think of our work. Dont agreed if you think there will be problems arise. Dont start wearing condom when you realise your worms have done the wicky job. We have to have the confident when we decide and do on anything, never question back what we have agreed upon unless it's constructive.

Ok, simple as that. Direction set. Creativity follows. Concerns Covered. Execution determined. Go. Get the direction correct. Get the Creative message spot on. Fulfil the requirements. Tells the truth, backup with loads of confidence. Nothing else matter much now.Those small nibby concerns can be overcome if we got the backbones right. Whether the client like or not, whether it is too clever or abstract, whether to play safe mode or break mode... everything have to surface and iron out before execution is involved. All team players who reached the "Go" stage, have to trust each other and move on together. This is how we nuture creativity and stop been discouraging. Perfect messaging doesn't exist in creativity. Correct messaging does. Don't worry about flaws, just hit the right nail down.

If there isn't confidence around, there's no convinction.

Creativity vs Design

Written by Tomaz Goh
Between Creativity and Design? Which did you prefer?
There's a fine line separate the 2 elements, yet so similar in certain extend... In first level explaination, it's translate as "Ideas" and "Skill". To convert it into industry terms, it's mean "Concept" and "Execution".

Creative Design or Design Creativity? Normally which one is your approach?
To come out with "Concept" and "Execute" it, or to "Execute" it with a "Concept" in mind? In most common scenario, i believe people will go to the first appproach by getting the concept and executed it. But does that mean by applying the second approach, we are wrong in our method?

There isn't any wrong doing which use either method. "Creative Design" simply boils down to getting a strong Creative concept to bring people into our candy world to indulge, whereas, "Design Creativity" use the Over the boundary approach of enagaging the people visual aspect to knock down the idea to them. No matter what, to have a good "message", neither creativity or design shall be ignored.

Concept stir up a viewer interest. Design simply makes them fall in love with it. You can have a good design, but if your concept doesnt ring a bell to any human being in the world, your design is isolated. Vice verse, With a great concept, but a below par design execution, it's bring down the value, meaning, confidence and association with the viewer, thus cheapen the whole "message".

Designer shouldn't be a tool for the clients nor even the agencies. Designer are not Hard-seller. Designer dont need to be a Liar. Designer are not Cheapo that takes all shit. Even Rag & bone man can reject what you want to sell to him. Designer are PROFESSIONAL. A unique bunch of people that add thrill and spice to life. To be able to practice "Creative Design" or "Design Creativity" , we are able to educate most trade with the correct knowledge. To differ us with those imposter and market-spoiler. Things are not meant to be complicated and it's shouldnt be. And same for our role. Same for Doctor and lawyer. Even a chicken rice seller.

We dont SELL, we CONVINCE people. We dont lie what we dont know, cuz people know what we dont know. Be sincere, be truthful, be opened, and most importantly, be a PROFESSIONAL that we are ought to be. If we dont know our own trade, nobody will.

Face in the Crowd

Contributed by Fungus
Look. It's her again.
Almost lost. Almost invisible
An insignificant existence
in the sea of ho-hum.

Nothing special
Nothing outstanding
Just another face in the crowd.

She floats pass the mall
She drifts pass the stall
What's the meaning of it all?

Nothing special
Nothing outstanding
Just another face in the crowd.

When things seem so plain
It's often not so sane
Coz' things are not how they seem
And here's what the plain Jane has to say:

I am only one
But still I am one
I cannot do everything
But still I can do something
And because I cannot do everything
I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

Transit of My Mind

Written by Tomaz Goh
Alighting at this latest stop
Craving for that something to look forward to,
be excite to...

No doubt it's too early to make any judgement,
Im landing myself in a transit junction.
Questioning of my intension,
i was wondering did i make the right stop here.

Exposure. Yes.
Place for harvest. Not really.

Is it a phrase for me to put down what i holding on
Start looking what i really pursuing on?

Not sure.

Couldn't decided what's the next ticket to buy, and to where.
Looking at this interchange,
nobody waits for time, nor even you.
Holding on to the ticket, im allowed to stay here for a while.
But not for long, cuz this isn't a shelter for me.