I lie flat on my back, melting, feet apart, arms by my sides, palms facing upwards, feeling the feeble breeze as the ceiling fan stirs the torpid air. Beneath me the thin yoga mat sponges up the pooling sweat. I slow my breath, methodically, counting, lengthening each exhalation, aware of the trembling droplets of perspiration that have gathered in my eyebrows, threatening to drip into my closed eyes. I reach out. My fingers find the familiar soft cotton cloth. I mop my face, my neck.

• Tags: Issue 24, Malaysia, Marc de Faoite