Less than two weeks left to my stint in Hong Kong. Lots to do in these two weeks. Work to tie up, things to pack (the horror), emotions to settle, farewells to bid. It's been an interesting six months. I can't say I won't be ecstatic to return to Singapore, but neither can I say I'll leave without a backward glance or a wistful sigh.

If you ask me, the worst part about uprooting yourself is the packing. You select, pick, meticulously fold and desperately squeeze months and months worth of belongings into a suitcase. After you succeed in the feat of fitting in 5 pairs of shoes and way too many jackets into that luggage, when the room echoes with the ghosts of past memories, when you glance down at your life, neatly tucked into that suitcase, it's almost as if you're ready to say goodbye.

No, I've haven't packed. Neither have I tied up my work nor bid the necessary farewells. My apartment is still messy and cluttered, evidence of a life liberally littered around. In a few days however, things will become hectic and I may well forget I ever had this night of quiet contemplation.

Until then, until the day I'm packed and ready to leave, know that it's been one helluva ride.