Food from my bowl

February 4, 2011 § Leave a comment

Food from my bowl to yours. Quietly, quickly, like I’m not hungry. This is what it means to love where I am from. I give you the food from my bowl.

Chinese New Year 2011, welcome to the year of the rabbit…


December 14, 2010 § 5 Comments

My father. All he did was work. Work and spend time with us. I didn’t have him around for half of my childhood, lost to the office in another country, the office that was a home, where he worked, slept, ate. Those long weeks where I cried myself to sleep every time I got scared that he wasn’t coming back. He built for me here. Everything I have.

A shophouse near Clarke Quay | Singapore

Body from the reservoir

December 14, 2010 § Leave a comment

He told me that he had to pull a body from the reservoir the other day. Bloated, afloat, stagnant water and the tropical green, almost visceral. A concerted effort to remain stoic. It’s all part of the service apparently. Ruff, Shaf and Nat – halfway through their mandatory term in the army.

National Service, Singapore.

Going places

November 14, 2010 § 1 Comment

It’s become a different beast for me, being on the move, going places. It used to be this embarkation to some mysterious unknown, or thoughtful homecoming, one of the two. Now the idea of home is a strange creature. At once less familiar and more amorphous. Old faces that grew older when I wasn’t looking. Grey hairs, smile lines, deeper from events that I wasn’t around to witness. Friends weaving through the cyclical landmine of love and heartbreak, I stop just in time to see the blur of the revolving door of girlfriends and boyfriends, never really around long enough for me to really get to know them, or them me. Maybe I’ll make it to the wedding, maybe not. Maybe I’m getting tired of being on the move so much, living the half life. Getting to know you, part time.

If it’s too loud, you’re too old

October 21, 2010 § Leave a comment

Saturday night | Singapore, August 2010

He learns love

May 10, 2009 § Leave a comment


Sembawang, Singapore – Back to The Heartland

I go back to Singapore and pay a visit. Ah Ching’s baby cousin grows a year older. He discovers words like “kiss” and “outside”. Ah Ching still lays immobile and ridden to the floor.









Big little India

October 27, 2008 § 5 Comments

Little India, Singapore – the Sunday eve of Deepavali


The underclass of Indian labour in Singapore. Unappreciated and unseen. Taking over a bright little corner of the sterile city state and filling it to the brim with big colour, sounds, sights and smells. Reclaiming the street one day a week.






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