When I talk to you, my words naturally become rushed and hurried--barely a pause between phrases, even sentences. As if the mind always remembers that there isn't much time to know you, before I fly again. And if I wanted you to know me too, what I only have is a mosaic of short car conversations to offer.

But perhaps, it is best to slow down and let words sink deeper. To breathe and think in between spaces, before I flip through another canvas of musings. Because I myself get lost as to where we drove through and I'd wonder as I alight, if we were even painting on the same canvas.

So I will try to lengthen my strokes and take time to mix my colours on the palette. Though days would quickly count past, I hope there would be enough to make a caricature of each of us to place on our rearview mirrors.