Three cream walls, one violet.
Cheating in a wedding dress
Ivory and slightly off the shoulder.
I was running up a wide flight of stairs;
Through narrow corridors and barely missing strangers' faces.
There was a strange sense of urgency
Glowing passion for the wrong person
And the lack of guilt was naive, whimsical.

-cut-

Back in the old flat
With the brown tiles that had little yellow square-motifs.
In the kitchen
Lolita was there- I hadn't seen her in 8 years.
She was saying something, I couldn't hear and/or understand.
There were gaps in the wall
Bricks missing, bits chipped off, a sorry sight.
I wondered then, even in the dream,
Why the hideous winter draught hadn't crept through;
Why I couldn't feel the cruel cold in mid winter.
But of course I couldn't.
There isn't winter in Singapore.

-cut-

Running, tirelessly.
I don't remember where.
Uphill, stretch in calf muscles.
What the hell was I thinking?