My Hulusi.

For this Sunday morning, fate
has already brought me noise
and colour.

A wedding procession at 6:30 AM.
Two taxi drivers and a contentious
dispute.

And down the road
someone is practicing hulusi scales,
over and over again.
Music that is hard to grow to.

But from the clear morning sky,
and an unwrapped Sunday morning.
It is amusing to see how life,
past imperfect, spills out
and no longer screams of fear.