No, I didn't die. Nor did I fall off a cliff. I merely went to gorgeous Bali for a week of lying on the beach, shopping, taking pictures of picturesque sunsets, rafting and getting henna tatoos with my girlface.

So we would be sitting down with a drink on front of us, cancer sticks damgling from our lips as we contemplate the what-has-beens in our lives so far. Or we would lie with our backs to the sun with the azure blue sky above us.

Frolicking in the cool blue waters of the Indian Ocean there is a sense of tranquility amid the bustle of this tropical island so dependant on tourism for survival. I had caught the tropical island fever, like so many writers entrapped by the wonders of Asia, even though I live in Asia myself.

Things would have been perfect if he had been there as well but I didn't think of him as often as I ought to, having fallen in love with the sun, surf and magic of the island. I never wanted to leave.

But saying goodbye to him as he left for Tokyo for a business meeting was painful because right now, I want be with him.

breathe // dream

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