the bird

Tuesday, 22 March 2005 T: 21 45

Reduced to a sheet of paper before me, the world seems so huge in compared to the minute island of Singapore. Right in that island, there are thousands of households, flats, terraces, bungalows, condominium, and this is just a microscopic fraction of the world map. There are thousands of trees, millions in the world. Yet it chose my flat. I’m just damn fortunate.

Right in my balcony of my flat on my six-flat, two flowerpots hang from the ceiling. The flowers are of course artificial. (My family has no time attending to real ones.) Below one of them dangles a mass of twigs, small pieces of barks, neatly assembled and meticulously built to form a nest. It resembles a ball, suspended in the air by silvery silky thread-like substances attached to the drooping fake branches. One of the sides (the one facing the sky) has a hole (that side still has a ‘wall’ but it is shorter), and upon closer scrutiny, one could see the small yet cosy living quarters of the hummingbird lied with the same silky and soft substance.

Often it flies about, cautious and timid as usual. Some time in the day, it will go to its nest to rest, to sleep. It looks so at peace when it sleeps, totally oblivious to the surroundings (unless of course there is an earthquake – usually caused by a person shaking his nest), with its long beak somehow supported by the ‘wall’, its eyes wide open. But it is asleep. No noise seems able to wake him up. It is about the size of a robin, perhaps slightly larger, brown in colour, with a yellow bottom, a long thin beak for sucking nectar I suppose.

I try not to disturb him when he’s asleep, since I wish to be a good host. I hope that my place will provide rest for him after a day of flying and drinking. Haha.