Sunday, 29 September 2013

     As I went for a stroll yesterday near the Waterfront in Kuching, I saw her again. The Malay lady who sells ‘kuih lapis’, or layer cake (a local favorite here in Sarawak). There were a lot of ladies selling layer cakes in that area, but she has always captivated me. That was the third time I saw her. The first and second time I saw her was back in March. She was definitely my type of woman; she was a bit plump, chubby, quite mature-looking and very beautiful. Her face was caked in makeup, her lips were red with the reddest lipstick, and she wore a nice bright-colored hijab. 

     Every time I pass there, we would always make eye contact. I would usually stop by for a while to see or sample some of her layer cakes. I don’t think she would recognize me, since I’ve only seen and visited her little stall three times, in only two months, separated by five months in between. I’ve always loved ‘kuih lapis’, they always taste so sweet and delectable, and for her ‘kuih lapis’, it was no exception. Sadly, I would never utter any word to her, while inspecting her cakes or even sampling them myself. I would only make noises with my mouth. You know, the noises people make when they eat something delicious. That ‘scrumptious’ sound. She would only look at me, smiling a bit, hoping I would purchase some, as she looks at me with those beautiful Asian eyes of hers. 

     After I have done sampling, I would smile a bit, and then leave. Maybe she does feel a bit disappointed that I did not purchase any of her cakes. What I really want is to just tell her, with pure honesty, of how I feel about her. How beautiful she looks, especially when she smiles. I just want to let her know that. I don’t even care if she is way beyond my own age. She is a complete stranger who makes me feel strangely happy, warm and fuzzy inside, whenever I see her. 

     But alas, I don’t know her. I don’t know if she already belongs to another, or if she is even married. Even if she is married, or belongs to another man, I would like to simply tell her how I feel about her, and I would like to be extremely and purely honest when I tell her that. I want to open my chest and simply show her how she makes me feel. I want to look into her eyes again, and let out all my feelings and emotions… I know she will probably never be in my arms, but at least I want to let her know of my feelings for her. And that is good enough for me… So, until I walk those old streets again, I would like to see her again, and simply tell her… ‘I think I love you’…