Marina barrage. Heaven for kite lovers when the sun hangs high, and sanctuary for picture lovers when the moons takes over.

Kite-flying is insipirational. And I can probably already notice that because people kind of always seem to realise many things by flying kites. Not that the fact that "go fly kite" isn't something very positive.

Kites. The way they fly, how you can only see the kite and not the thin thread that holds it. If there was something more appropiate to saying its life hangs upon a thread, I would say kites are the ones to fit that description.

How do we determine the success of a kite flying? Some would consider it good to have it on air in the first place, and others want the altitude that it can achieve. As if the height of the kite represents the skill of the one controlling it.

Sometimes we are found in situations similar to a kite. Where the place we go, how high we go are determined by someone else, and not directly, but though a thin line, invisble to the naked eye. The wind plays a part, like how nature does in each and every of our lifes.

In chinese they say, 天时，地理，人和。

Who's grabbing onto the line of your kite? Who's the one to decide whether to reel you in, or to release you out? How would we know the true purpose? As if reeling us in definitely meant shortening our heights, it might, for all we know, to keep us from falling.

I guess kites have a tinge of ambition to them, to conquer the sky, to get up high.

Just like we humbly do, in our daily lifes.