I have always wanted to run away from home. Just for the heck of it. Like Huckleberry Finn but without the pouting and sulking.
When I was a kid I used to pack my clothes in a little bag and keep it in my closet for when I sneak away at night. One night, I actually tried. I made it to the hallway, looked at the pitch black, turned back and went to sleep.
Today, after 20 odd years, I found the perfect place for running away to.
Kahang, Johor. Small, quiet, one-and-a-half horse town. Perfect for when I want to disappear into a green ether. Nobody would think to find me here. I hide in an obscure house along an obscure alley, quaint in its shabbiness. I can walk into the nearby forest and zazen there for days on end. Or I could just hide in the house and vegetate until I grow roots. If I crave some semblance of a good meal, I can hop on the bus to Mersing, where P1 Café awaits me with not bad pizza, burgers, pasta, beer and superb mango crumble by Urs the Swiss German owner. When I tire of this, I can make my way to Singapore across the causeway and immerse myself in material bliss before I bury myself under my Kahang rock again.
Really, what more does a Wordsmith need?
