The tune of this song was suddening singing in my head… living is easy with eyes closed, cos nothing is real…

From strawberry picking, cherry picking to a story picking.

I picture an endless field touching the skyline with lipglossy strawberries dotting everywhere. They are sweet, juicy, and easy to pick...

And here I am.

It was a Sunday afternoon on a farm in Chelmsford.

I was too eager to discover the sweet, small strawberries hidden under the strawberryvine, cos they were the first things that caught my hunger. They could not keep my attention for long as I started to search for bigger, redder ones which I believed would be sweeter.

They did not last long either, as a typical me started the question why.

Why are they so big? Why are they so sweet? They must be unreal I concluded.

I then rushed to search for some cherries.

They were the tougher ones to get as only few were left and all were too high on the trees, beyond my reach. I did not give up, because a typical me, again!, always wanted something that is hard to get. I knew if I got to them, they would be my lovely cherries that would not make me full so fast. After so much effort and so much time, I finally got some in my hands, but I was fooled again. I was only lured by the shiny skin on the outside, cos they were rotten on the inside. They could not after all last forever.

I turned to my small strawberries. They were humble, and pitied. They have tried their best to shine but were still ignored. Why did I still keep searching for bigger, sweeter ones while those are always there already?

'Cos nothing is real in strawberry fields? Or 'cos I am just a fool?