Coming home to Singapore after a long period, you begin to question your own memory. Did the clouds always sit so low in the sky? Did the streets really shimmer and tremble from the force of the summer heat? And when it rained, did the city really swell up like a water balloon, letting out a sticky humid belch that drummed against the back of your eyelids?
You even walk a little differently now, because you are home, and this is the city that has seen all your walks, knows you from the inside out. The person you are from another place, packed up neatly in a suitcase, expectant but understanding.
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- Tags: Issue 24, Singapore, Yishu Zhou