Hungry ghosts are hungry.

The air smells like arson a few blocks down. Like mini deforestation at a community garden. Charred limes and pandan leaves. Only it's not. It's the hungry ghost festival and I've got ashes in my eyes and my clothes. Ashes dancing with the wind like mini twisters. Paper to ashes. Dusts to teary eyes. Oh well. At least now that I'm in the confinement of my room, I'm able to breath properly again. Also, I finally managed to scan some stuff up! And the house smells of oranges!