Yesterday, I went to Shah Alam the lake garden to draw. It is quite unbelievable as I found that there was hardly anything interesting to draw.
What I saw was a lot of people, some are with families, some with their loved ones, and some are jogging around. Then I look at the infrastructure, in which I can only see the playground, some small hut, tall buildings from the distance, and lots and lots of trees.
Then I decided to sit on a spot with less people and started to draw a tree which caught my attention.
As I was drawing, people are passing by, but there was this one Chinese woman; she looks messy, carrying three large bags in which I was quite sure containing plastic bottles and tin cans.
She stopped by, watching as I draw. She did not talk, but then she made a signal that she wants to take a look at my sketch book. I gave her my sketch book. She flips through it, as her dirty hands leaves stains on the pages, and as she came into my self-portrait, she smiled and pointed at me, saying in Chinese "This is you." I understand a little bit of Chinese, but I cant talk with her as I can't speak Chinese and she can't speak Bahasa.
She handed back the sketch book, and after a little bow she went away.
This incident disturbed my thoughts.
I realized that languages could be a major communication barrier, but that does not happens with arts.
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