My favourite place to write.

"It is getting colder in McD Bangsar. How do I make myself 'feel' warm? I picture myself wrapped in a genuine lambswool pashmina bought from a London boutique. I dream of myself enclosed with a jacket bought from GAP London boutique.

Why am I picturing and imagining things? Because they say the mind can help you to heal or kill. I'm attempting to use my mind as a friendly tool, not a deadly weapon. Hence, I'm using this gadget to make myself feel warm.

Honestly my skin is squeezed, dried and the tips of my fingers have turned frosty. The back of my neck is crying for the hands of a masculine figure. My shoulders are aching, the bones are fritty nitty tired, yes.

I rubbed my hands again. There is fire leaping in front of my eyes. The scouring flame blew heat into my factual realm. CCCCCold still!"

I exercise my writing muscles at least once a week for one hour at different venues. Until today I have been going solo at McD Bangsar. I luv the place. It's spacious and provides customers with the choices of air-cond/non-aircond, smoking/non-smoking/ seating. I prefer the company of a cup of tea and a small packet of french fries whilst writing crap or crop.