Living with My Childhood Sweetheart
She’s sitting beside me ripping her CDs into mp3s. Being a music teacher, she has lots of kiddie songs which she sings along to while iTunes does its work in the background. She adds her own molotov cocktail of a Russian accent into old Singaporean community-building (brainwashing) songs.
We laugh and I tell her I love her. The words seem so inadequate for so wonderously childlike a moment.