I was waiting for the train to come. Fuck! 8 minutes till the next one! I stood, observing the throng of human wave who were on the escalator. My thoughts went forward to the eventuality of a goodbye. Goodbye to someone who has taught me precious lessons.

The most distinct feature is his mad amazon hair, framing eyes who have seen yet continue to open wide in wonder and surprise. He will be leaving our fair shores in a months' time but I already miss him. I figure that if I start missing him now, that I'll get a headstart and when that eventuality comes, it won't hurt so bad. Perhaps. I don't know if I'll ever see him again.

He has taught me to push that invisible barricade that we all set up. He's attitude, try, you never know. I remember that he used to annoy the hell out of me. I was complacent, happy to take whatever is dished out to me, never to question if the portion is enough. He is generous of spirit, nurturing and encouraging. He would give the clothes off his back if he has to. He never asks - doesn't demand anything of his friends.

His troubles, he keeps private. I tried asking but you know, it's not easy to ask when he never does really ask about anything private. The doors are shut in certain parts of his life. I saw pictures of his childhood and those of his children. He has seen and been through so much yet it never deters him to carry on to see what's next.

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The note above was written about 1.5 months before he left. It just sat as a draft and I never went back to it till now...Now that he's gone. The escalator was the catalyst to the note above. With an escalator, you know that there's a chance that you will see the same person if you are there, at that moment on a certain day. It's a human buffett conveyor belt that recycles people, day in, day out. In life, you may not meet a person again. Especially one who is a gem such as he. I miss him sorely, my buddy who never questions.

I've lost quite a number of people these past few months - through departures, not death!! (Thank God!!) and I know that it's part and parcel of life but still, it stings. I'm counting them off my fingers and I hope I don't have to move on to my toes.

Petal P. Rose