My bed has retreated to a corner of my room, my table now plays in the center-left field and I am suddenly lost in a flurry of throwing things out.

Dust of months of neglect scream their silent fury as they darken the foaming waters.

My room isn't done yet. It's nearly done. That's the way it is with so many things in my life. Nearly.

Like the way I'm nearly free.

I'm starting school in January.

Blink.

Blink.

It dropped out from the skies on an orange letterheaded.

"Due to recent policy changes..."

"...matriculate in Semester 2 of 2003-2004..."

Whoa.

When an opportunity like this knocks, you yank open the door and drag the bugger in.

Besides, with my understudy here, I'm effectively replaced, aren't I?

It all seems to be falling into place.

The long holiday to shape up my room. (I've finally reclaimed my study table from the hall and kicked the blocky piece of wood that was pushed on me back where it belongs - outside my room.)

The extra time to actually try to think. (..and be horrified at the Hong-Kong-soap-serial long ping time.)

The rain that -

[ran to close room window]

- well never mind.