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The Day You Went Away Jason Quek 8 Dec 2004 I was travelling home in a crowded bus, staring out of the window to my left. New construction sites have taken over the 2 kilometres of lush green fields that carpetted the route I travel almost every day. A sickening dense of rusty steel rods, concrete foundations, lorries, cement mixers, changing the world. Workers bent over their work, with tools and buckets, with well-worn large grey hats that hid their faces from the world, and the sun. I then looked up and was momentarily transfixed by the contrast of ground and sky. It seemed like someone mixed a tumbler of white water colour and splashed it against a canvas of baby-blue. An invisible paintbrush messed the splashes, and the wind blew the swirls and the curls across the surface of the dome. I wonder if the construction workers ever look up to see the heaven artistry. A gift to all, but few enjoy. The weather is turning cool. Drop your hats. Look up. Look up. Soon, the constructions sites will turn into tall buildings that will block out even more of what precious little sky I have left. But for the moment, it was for me to enjoy. What is on the other side of the sky? I wished I could breathe in those clouds. For the rest of the journey Wendy whispered into my ear. 3002 page views

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