I miss being home. I miss being somewhere familiar and comfortable. Noise
and lights and craze is fun fun fun fun fun but not all the time, not when you're
a twenty-something with a perpetual headache and creaking back bones.
Not particularly when Every Day consists of zips of light. Home is where
it's hot and humid and sticky and kind of gross, but you love it. It's where
you under-appreciate and over-defend, full of silly people who understand
your "idiomatic expressions". Right this very second, I miss batik, spice, old
malaya speakers who say things like Falsafah! and the abundant remnants of
colonialism that grew and grew, making us

Little

Brown 

Sheep.