Quite a number of people have asked me whether travelling is what I do for a living, or is it the only thing I get up to.

Well, the answer is no.

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Every time I return home (as in, where I was born and raised), a truckload of people say that I am not just lucky, but privileged, and more often than not, there is one person who would conveniently pass me a remark that I am ‘one of those people’ who are living it up overseas while people back home are only capable of making ends meet.

Before someone else repeats that statement, this is what I have to say:

At the busiest and possibly most frazzled time of my life, I spared a moment to write a few paragraphs for the displeasure of my future self to read, thinking that perhaps in a less overwhelmed state of mind, I am able to look back and fully appreciate the course of events that took up all of my time this year.

Half a year later, today, when I have finally reached a stage where life seems to be slowing down again, I found the luxury of time to revisit this draft and this is what I told myself: