Thoughts 1.

My uncle, my mother's younger brother was a prize-winning poet and is a carpenter until today. He must be approaching the age of fifty now. I haven't met him since I was in primary school after my mum and him quarreled bitterly.

Tonight, I walked to my brother's shelf which housed Malay books and my eyes coincidentally caught an author's name- S. Othman Kelantan "Perjudian". I turned the cover and his signature and Chinese name stared back at me. 钟保福。The family surname of Cheng/Chong/Ching is a legacy my mum is so proud in preserving and when it kind of shouted back at me blankly from a different time through a printed material, it brought back certain memories.
My brother visited my uncle several times before. I have not seen him for almost two decades. Does he still write in the 'hiding'?

Maybe...

The paint starts to peel
The sun ceases to heal
The words appear to fade
To those who deny any aid