"You've got dancing worms in your stomach! They're dancing to the music!"

That's what Teacher Peggy would tell me each week as a 5-year-old me held onto my mother's hand at the front door of a little apartment, refusing to go for Music Appreciation class because 'my tummy hurt'. In actual fact, I was scared and very nervous. The other kids didn't look as small as me, and they were all so loud and they were having so much fun as I looked through the door, dancing around to upbeat piano pieces. How was shy little me supposed to make friends and do all that?

Teacher Peggy would hold onto me, getting down on her knees so that she could look straight into my eyes. She had one the most genuine smiles I have ever seen, the most soothing voice, the warmest hugs and the biggest heart. She made Saturday mornings the best they could be. Huddled up with a circle of children, she would make us sing songs, she would read us stories from books. I still remember those first few years, all her instruments and supplies cramped into a 2 bedroom apartment.

When she had started getting more students, she could finally expand. Her little initiative could finally bloom into a very well-loved business. The new studio till this day remains as one of the most vibrant and creative spaces I've seen. As I grew older, Music Appreciation classes turned into keyboard classes. From keyboard classes, it turned to one-to-one piano classes with her. From the age of 5 to 12, I went to classes solely for the purpose of appreciating music and playing the piano for fun. No exams (I went for my first piano exam when I was 12), just because I loved music, and why not make music if I loved it so much. I spent these 7 years under her, relying on her like a second mother. Looking back, I can't help but notice how blessed I was. She supported me in ways that I could never imagine. She would sit by my side, beyond class hours, just to watch me play because I wanted to show her more. I would sit by her side when she played because God knows how wonderful she was at it.

She would tell me to follow my dreams, and do things because I loved it and nothing else. Which is why when I walked out of hotel corridor after completing my Grade 5 examination when I was 17, she didn't hold me back when I told her that getting into piano exams had completely taken away my love for the instrument and I would not continue classes with the studio anymore.

She watched me grow. From seeing her every Saturday for the first 7 years, to slowly seeing her less and less during the final 5 years (I would barely see her actually, because my Grade classes were with another teacher in the studio) - she had seen me from the time I was small enough to hug her knee, till the time she had realized that I was going to graduate high school in a few months. She's listened through all my career changes ever since I was a kid, from wanting to be a scientist when I was in kindergarten, to an author, to finally sticking to being a journalist. When I told her that I was quitting piano, she said she understood. She said she had noticed the change, she could see it in my face on the weekends that she saw me in the studio before class. She told me, "I still remember when you were 5 years old, you never wanted to let mummy's hand go, always saying you had a stomach pain so that you won't need to come for class. And then I would tell you that those are worms in your stomach dancing! And you would smile and come in. Look at how much you've grown."

About an hour ago, I received the news that Teacher Peggy had passed away yesterday morning. Last stage of cancer. She's been battling it for years now, years before I quit piano. I didn't know.

This is somebody that I've spent so many years of my life with. I haven't spoken to her since I quit piano back in Form 5, never got the chance to see her, the same way how you slowly end up never seeing your favorite teacher in school till years later after you graduate. I thought I had still had the time. It's a terrible feeling, knowing that somebody who has impacted you so much had slowly drifted further and further away - a drift so natural that you don't feel it at the time because it feels like something that was bound to happen.

I look back and I feel so much regret. So many things I wish I could have said and done. I wish I could have gone back sooner to visit, I wish I would have shown my appreciation rather than just feel it.

Music is one of the most important things to me, and she is the reason why I've developed such an appreciation for it. She is the reason why I learned to play the piano. She is the reason why I joined singing and dancing competitions when I was in school. She was one of the first few people to teach me how to love life, and she taught me how to love the ones in my life (these conversations I will always hold dear). Teacher Peggy was an amazing woman. A woman that gave her everything into what she loved, and always pushed her students to do only what they love. She taught her students how to be passionate, how to go beyond their own boundaries - she did this each day tirelessly, pouring out so much of herself so that she can she bring out the good in someone else. She was the most devoted mother of two beautiful daughters, who I've managed to watch as they grew from little babies to outspoken children that cared about music and art just like their mum. She made me feel like I was her own daughter during those years. She was, and will always be one of the most beautiful souls to have ever graced my life. I will always be grateful, and I will always remember her.

Never, ever, take those that you have loved for granted.

You were always there after my late night jogs, when I'm the only person downstairs and I'm sitting by the door; sweat mixed with tears, irregular breathing, exhausting myself as far as I can go to overcome the insomnia. I would hear the sound of the chain of your collar rushing towards me the second you hear the legs of the chair scratch against the tiles. You always knew how to differentiate how I was doing. On regular days you would come with a ball in your mouth and drop it right infront of my feet, trying to prop your head under my neck. And at times like these, you would naturally walk a little slower towards me. You would stand right infront of me, letting me pat your fur and rest my arms on your back until my song ended. When I stare out blankly too much, you would put your head on my lap, almost like a reminder to snap out of it.

I would come downstairs at 2 or 3 in the morning, just to read a story or get a glass of water, when I get the most lonely. I would walk down the stairs and hear you jolt up from your sleeping position at the main door and you would run to the glass door peering straight towards the kitchen, because you knew that's the first place I would usually go to. You would just look at me, and I would look back. You would then lie down, eyes locked on me the whole time as I read under the kitchen light, eyes locked on me until you fell asleep at the door. I get scared very easily, and open spaces with many windows just like my hall would usually scare me at those times of the morning. But you always seemed to know. You would pick up on why I was down here when on most occasions I would refrain from doing so. I would come down when the loneliness gets too much, when the air in my room gets too silent and sensitive. I would come down because I knew you would be there, making sure I was safe, making sure that I would see you from where I sat. You never liked it when I was on my own.

It's something that I don't want to get used to. Now that you're not here, I'm giving myself the leniency to do as I wish. I sit outside a little longer now that you're not around to snap me out of it. I stay in my room, letting myself get washed over by everything that is silent and sensitive. I've never talked about it to anybody, but you always gave me the impression that you understood. It's different with a pet. They don't flood you with 'are you okay's, they can't (and maybe he's up there feeling happy about that because he should know that I hate answering that question the most). They're just genuinely there for you, they're there for you in complete silence and out of complete love. They don't expect anything, they don't try to make you guilty for feeling, they don't leave you hanging. Not at all, you were always there.

I wish you were here right now, Hunter, I really miss resting my head on your fur and holding your paw because it was squishy and that was really therapeutic for me. I miss making you happy, I miss seeing how your eyes light up when I walk through the gate and I miss seeing how you always try when I'm like this. I miss you so, so much. All of us do. You left a really big void here at home, you know that? Dad still wishes your paw print good morning, it keeps him going, he's going through a whole right now and if I found solace in you, what he had with you is beyond words.

Things are getting so tough, but it's okay, I knew you never liked sensing tension. You may not be around to butt in and lick all our toes under the kitchen table now to lighten things up, but I'll keep the whole scenario in mind, I think that would help.

Anyway, I hope you're running around enough up there in heaven, it won't hurt anymore so run as much as you want. Bark as loud as you want and scare all the other little dogs, you have enough energy now, there's no need to hold back. You're back to being healthier than you've ever been, you must feel so much happier now. Don't worry, I won't sit outside for too long at night or scare myself by coming downstairs when it's too late, you trained me as well as we trained you.

Goodnight, Hunter boy.

How am I supposed to do this?

Taken while I was walking down Harajuku street at around 11PM. There was a different crowd walking around at this point of time. They were young and wore a different sort of fashion, they were my definition of the 'cool kids'. And I really liked the 'Stay Real' neon sign up there. Seemed very fitting with the situation, with all the loud individuality.

This was taken in the town of Misaki, Osaka, while taking a walk. I really liked this particular street because it looked like those described in the book The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami. That's Su Yee, she wasn't supposed to be in the picture but somehow she looks like she belongs there. b00ty.

Same street different angle. And that's Arreya taking a picture of Imran with his tripod stand (it's hard to explain this relationship).

I feel like these two trees individually look very Japan. Coincidentally they were grown side by side and the contrast was beautiful, especially against the clear sky.

Tannowa Train Station. Train stations in small towns always look so lonely.

A contrast from the previous train station, further out into the city. There were three school girls in their uniform giggling over something on their phones and I found that nice to see.

Looking out the window on the train back to the airport and I saw the Tempozan Ferris Wheel, which I really liked seeing when I passed it as I was leaving the airport. Decided to take a picture cause it might be a little while before I see that view again.

Walking around Shibuya and the whole feel of the city really had my heart pumping. I enjoyed the busy streets and how it still felt like I had so much space to be on my own and take it in despite being in a sea of people.

My favorite part of Harajuku. My brother and I were walking for about an hour, and we weren't sure where we were going. As we turned into one particular alley we could hear Japanese rap music playing in the background, and we stumbled upon a row of really cool vintage clothing shops. Everything in them were loud and bright, weird prints, odd cuts (and terribly high prices) but I loved everything about it. I was hooked.

Another one of the shops. I particularly appreciated the detail put in the decoration of these shops, everything was done carefully to bring out the ambiance that was supposed to be given out. A really young, fresh, and different one.

Another one ft. cool kids.

I think this candy shop is the cutest thing ever. I squealed Candy-A-Go-Go! out loud every timeI I passed just cause the name is really catchy.

I found this the second day I went back to Harajuku. It was a clothing heaven that I missed out on previously cause it was pretty deep in. I liked this whole concept of hanging the signs up there all clustered together, it fit really well with how clustered everything else in the store was. A really good type of cluster.

Japan has the cutest hats I swear. Didn't buy this one cause my parents would judge me.

This was taken on the one night my brother and I stopped by Akihabara because he wanted to buy earphones. Most of the shops were closed, but there will still a whole lot of people, and well we saw some pretty weird stuff.  Part 2  Lang Tengah Most of the shots here are self-explanatory, hence, I won't be captioning them. They were taken simply for the reason that mother nature is astounding and wonderful. The Turtle Watch camp here was in the jungle so it really gave me the chance to soak everything in without distraction (because there was no connection to allow distraction). Besides my duties of patrolling the beaches during the night, I spent my days reading (although it wasn't as productive a reading holiday as I hoped it would be) and kicking back with my friends in all these different places. The serenity also allowed to think and reflect on a lot of things, which was really great as well.

I spend most of my idle minutes in the day drifting off into my head for just a bit. I picture things; leaves during autumn, city streets that I can't identify, new shades of dark lipstick staring back at me in the mirror, papers scattered on desks, coffee mug stains on tabletops.