number something something

I was reading Daughter of Persia, a book about this lady who grew up in her father’s harem. Raised by her mother and stepmothers, she grew up in politically unstable Iran.

Her father, a man who believed wholeheartedly in educating all his children, male or female, was 60 when she was born. She broke all tradition and left the safety net of Iran to study in Los Angeles.

She returned to open a school for social work, training young, malleable Iranians to be professional social workers. Satti laments about the resignation so eminent in Iranians.

Her nanny blames a rotten melon on the will of god. Heh.

Lalala. So I went on and on to get here.

I was reading this OLIVIA book. Olivia is a piglet and he/she has two younger siblings. My god, that book is sick. So fucking ominous. Black and white with long, creepy shadows. The only colours evident are green and red. It’s for children 6 – 9 years.

Children below two can’t see colours except red and green and something. So 6 – 9 years what! So little colours for what. And in this book, Olivia loses her/his toy. Turns out that Olivia’s dog chewed the patchy doll into pieces.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

And Selene brought me to Sentosa today. Heh heh. So nice. The buses inside are free. Woo. Please please please let us get this job. Please handsome, sarcastic Indian whats-his-name. I think it is Arun.

Wah.