Waiting - Part 4 A split second lack of attention. You’d rounded the corner and almost walked into her. She seems to stare right into you, oblivious to the near collision, her mind lost in thought and faraway. You’d seen her in the building dozens of times before. Always dressed in black, usually in pants or an occasional knee-length skirt, black flats, black hair band and long tresses layered at the back.She shuffles to the side to let you past. You keep on walking, turning back to look at her go and wondering when you might chance upon her again. A minute later, you realise you're going the wrong way, all because of a split second lack of attention.singapore Fearless She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling tired from standing for so long. In the next gallery, a man in his early twenties wearing a pink long-sleeved shirt, a pink floral skirt and brown Birkenstocks stood clucking to himself in front of a piece by Mark Bradford, which was one of her favourites. What she loved about this job was that it allowed her to be so close to the art that she admired, like the Anish Kapoor pieces, which she now shepherded.At some point, you mustered the courage to talk to her. She turned to you with expectant eyes, a shade of green and grey just like Alisa’s from so many years ago.singapore Kim - Part 1 It was always on and off with her, a relationship that always seemed to tether on the brink of developing into something more serious, but that ultimately never did.She said she thought Asians looked cool because of their jet black hair. At first, you took that at face value, and dismissed her comment as curious and slightly silly. Over time, you began to suspect that perhaps she liked you for what you represented, rather than for who you were, and that annoyed you.singapore 37°2 le matin Your dates were always interested in hearing about the strange, exotic movies that you’d seen overseas, and that weren’t available in Singapore. The ones that began with the protagonists fornicating in the heat of the night, or that revolve around a man watching his favourite stripper going through her schoolgirl routine night after night in a Toronto club.They listened intently as you set the scene, turning the celluloid into words and the words into images in their minds. They nodded sagely as you described each vivid movement, each tortured expression, each stolen kiss.singapore Kismet - Part 6 You’re nervous, wondering what you would do if she doesn’t laugh or isn’t that interested. The sense of not being in total control is something you haven’t experienced in a while, slightly worrying yet strangely exciting.singapore Life Stories - Part 4 Valerie was the prettiest girl in your JC, as far as you were concerned. A year older and a school runner, she had a lean, athletic body and long slender legs. She always sported a page boy haircut that nicely complemented her soft-looking, oval face, giving her a quintessentially Chinese look.There was one particular conversation with her that you’ll never forget.“Do you ever wonder why things happen the way they do?” you’d asked, thinking of Jungian synchronicity.“All the time,” she replied, tugging nervously on the collar of her uniform, scanning the canteen with weary eyes.singapore How To Date SQ Girls - Part 5 In the two years you hadn’t seen her, you’d forgotten how tall she was. Even now, seated at a table in the cosy second floor restaurant off Boat Quay, you suspect she’s leaning forward in a vain effort to make herself seem shorter, her long slender torso canted to one side as she tells you excitedly about her new job, three days in.A group of six men walk noisily across the dark hardwood floor, taking their seats at the next table, set several feet away. Throughout your meal, you notice them looking over from time to time, studying her and the way she waves her long slender fingers as she talks. You can’t work out whether this is because of the copious amounts of red wine the men are consuming, or because there aren’t any other pretty girls to stare at in the restaurant. From her seat, she doesn’t seem to notice them, or perhaps she’s just trained herself not to notice people staring at her. She speaks with you animatedly, reciting the job pointers you give her, as though she’s trying to commit them to memory.At one point she turns to look for a waiter. Through a gap between the buttons at the front of her blouse, you see a sliver of lacy black lingerie. As she begins to turn back, you avert your eyes just in time, focusing on a window frame just off to her right. She continues to talk, changing topic and picking up speed, slender fingers still waving in the air.singapore Fastlove - Part 4 It’s a quarter past twelve when she gets into your car, swinging herself into the seat with a practised grace. As you reach for the gearshift, your eyes can’t help but notice the goose bumps on her slender legs, no doubt a reaction to the sudden change from the humidity outside to the cool air now surrounding her.Your eyes linger a moment longer than they probably should, and you wonder if she noticed. She turns to face you, her hand flicking aside the strands of her long blonde hair.singapore Breathe Her CD arrived in the mail today. The one she’d mentioned in a chance meeting a few weeks ago, in the course of a simple and plain conversation, catching up on many years of being out of touch.It came in a padded white envelope with foreign stamps and a customs declaration. You take it out and look at the picture on the cover, and decide that she looks more or less the same. The case looks fairly new, although the back is stamped with the word “Sample” in dark red letters. You open it, inspecting the liner notes and noticing that the disc looks like it’s never been played, and that the liner notes look like they’ve never been taken out, true to the seller’s description.You examine the six photos of her in the liner notes. It’s a darker, older and more knowing version of her, someone whom you almost do not recognise. You play her CD. Her voice is higher-pitched than you remember, ethereal.You try to recall the times you spent with her, but the images are fleeting, playing hide-and-seek in your mind and not wanting to be remembered. You wonder if she ever realised how much you cared about her and how much you wanted to be with her. This woman, then a girl, who changed your life more than she will ever know. This girl, now a woman, who at one point was the greatest love in your life. Who was, and perhaps always will be.And if I could be who you wantedIf I could be who you wantedAll the timeAll the timesingapore Kismet - Part 5 In another time, at another place, she’d be your girl.If she wasn’t already dating someone else, if things weren’t so complicated, if you both had more time.For now, you just observe her from a distance, listening to the things she says, watching the way she moves her hands, studying her pixie face and her many varied expressions as she talks to you.singapore Two Happy birthday, Son of Singapore.I say love will come to youHoping just because I spoke the words that they're trueAs if I've offered up a crystal ball to look throughWhere there's now one there will be twosingapore Teardrops - Part 1 The day after the breakup, she cut her hair short, adopting a pageboy look that quite suited her roundish face. Within a week she had quit her job, and just over two weeks later, she finds herself in a window seat waiting for the nearly empty plane to take off and bring her home to her parents, childhood friends and hopefully, the opportunity to start over.She takes a deep breath, trying to slow down her pulse. The previous days had become a blur, of a frantic garage sale to sell her sofa and TV, of filling small cardboard boxes with clothes and books and CDs, of throwing away years of mementos, photos and memories in large black garbage bags.She isn’t sure if she’s making the right decision by leaving this city and this life, but she’s tired of the bags under her eyes and of the constant confusion and the pain. She closes her eyes tightly as the aircraft finally taxies down the runway, gathering speed and lifting her into a cloudless August sky.Footsteps on the dance floorRemind me baby of youTeardrops in my eyesNext time I'll be truesingapore Voices Carry - Part 1 Like clockwork she appears a little after noon, crossing the pink tiled floor of the airy café just off Raffles Place, which will soon fill up with customers looking for their fix of sandwiches, salads and famous cupcakes.The first time you saw her about a month ago she was wearing a tight-fitting white knit top over a simple camel coloured skirt. Today she’s similarly dressed, but rather more businesslike in a dark blue skirt and a silky black blouse. You can’t help but think how a string of pearls, a Hermès scarf and a Birkin bag could dress up either outfit and instantly transform her into one of the ladies who lunch in the 16th arrondissement, or a youngish Sloane Square soccer mom with a Range Rover or Lexus SUV parked around the corner.Your eyes linger over her slim frame as she lines up at the self-service counter with her back to you, and you notice how she absentmindedly crosses her left foot behind her right one as she waits, three inch stiletto heel dangling in the air. The back of her blouse is meticulously tucked into her tight-fitting skirt, pleats and visible lines lining up symmetrically.She heads over after buying her lunch, together with a colleague, who’s similarly attired in a slim grey skirt and black blouse, first two buttons undone. They sit down at a table close to you. The first time you saw her she shared a big salad with her colleague. Today they have individual salads whilst a bowl of soup sits squarely between them.Her tanned complexion, long straight hair and pretty face make her seem at once youthful yet mature. You hear snatches of their conversation, in perfect English, peppered with parochial slang. They’re chatting about their food and a big Hollywood movie that’s in cinemas at the moment. You wonder what else she gets up to, where she went to school, whether she reads Baudelaire or chick lit, whether her iPod nano carries Editors or Enrique, whether her movie tastes run to Sundance selections.You step out of the fantasy you’ve invented for her, having lingered just a little too long on your long black, now cold and somewhat uninviting. It’s just before 12:30 pm on a Tuesday as you step back onto a cloudy Raffles Place, but already you’re looking forward to next week.singapore Rain - Part 2 You’re sitting at a table under the five-foot-way outside your favourite kopitiam, along a street lined with conservation shop-houses. Breakfast today comprises two orders of kaya toast, two runny eggs and a cup of steaming hot kopi-o.It starts to rain quite heavily, and you watch as the water runs over the roof of your car and trickles down the back and over the rear bumper, collecting in a puddle at the side of the road.You think back to the garden in your parents’ house, where as a young boy you squatted under the car porch, watching the raindrops splash down, forming muddy puddles in the grass. You could spend hours just staring at the rain and the puddles, breathing in the cool, fresh air. It seems like such a long time ago, in an age before deadlines and meetings and the various other machinations of working life that bring you alternating happiness and anxiety.singapore Waiting - Part 3 A man in his late fifties or early sixties with big square rimmed glasses and a fedora asks if he can share your table. He’s wearing a brown tweed jacket over a camel coloured argyle sweater over a teal coloured shirt over a white inner shirt, despite the fact that it’s a balmy July morning. There’s a small yellow cloth flower pinned on the lapel of his jacket, which captures your attention for some reason.He lights up a Marlboro red, and proceeds to alternate each drag of the cigarette, held in his left hand, with a sip from a big cup of cappuccino, held with his right hand. He does this for about three minutes, finishing both his cigarette and his coffee at approximately the same time. He gets up to leave, saying “thank you” with a slight nod of his head, before he turns and shuffles away into the crowd.singapore Paddington It’s 6 am in the morning and you’ve just gotten off the train from the airport. You have two hours to kill before your first meeting of the day.You find a nearby café and settle in at a sidewalk table with a cappuccino and a croissant, still hungry despite a full continental breakfast a couple of hours earlier, courtesy of Singapore Airlines, still a great way to fly.A middle-aged couple, American you’re guessing, walk past holding hands and pulling along matching tan luggage with floral trim. Somehow you feel a bit envious. You plug in the radio on your mobile phone, hoping to listen to some Britpop but sadly finding Nelly Furtado and the Pussycat Dolls.It’s been eight years since the last time you were in London. Memories flood in of her tiny flat in Belsize Park, of languid smoky nights in the basement club of a hip Moroccan restaurant on Regent Street, of the convey belt sushi restaurant in Soho that was all the rage back then, of the murderous NCP car park charges and wheel clamps on your black Mercedes. You laugh to yourself, startling the woman at the next table. You give her a quick smile, and turn back to observe as the city begins to awaken from its slumber. More people walk past, dressed almost invariably in dark greys and black, taking quick determined strides, striving for destinations as yet unknown.singapore Velvet - Part 1 She leans sharply forward and grabs your right wrist, turning your palm upwards. Your eyes move downwards, ineluctably following the plunging neckline of her sleek black dress. She starts to look up, and your eyes race upwards, hoping you won’t be discovered. Your eyes meet hers and she laughs, knowingly.singapore The Roaring 20s - Part 2 One of the most intense relationships you ever had lasted exactly one week, from the first time you met her over plates of char kway teow at lunchtime on a Friday, to the last time you said goodbye, exactly seven and a half days later, just past midnight at the wine bar at Zouk.Sometimes you wonder whether that relationship might have had some hidden mileage in it that prematurely vanished that fateful Friday night. When you think back to that week, you remember certain bits and pieces more vividly than others, like the flickering fragments of some old film.There was an evening earlier in the week, when you waited for her on the landing outside her flat, as she hurried about inside gathering some clothes and things so that she could stay over at your place. You remember looking out at the next block of flats, and noticing how the setting sun had cast beautiful purple and orange streaks in the sky. You remember that you didn’t want to go into the flat and meet her family, that things were progressing quite quickly, and that you weren’t sure how long it would last. But most of all you remember the setting sun and the beautiful sky.Sometimes you scroll through your phone list, and think about calling her, but you always end up putting the phone away. Sometimes some things are better left in the past, and it’s been years since you said goodbye.singapore Life Stories - Part 3 At some point there were two women who entered your life at the same time.One was shy and reserved, always dressed conservatively in knee length skirts and slightly frilly blouses in muted tones of olive, grey and black. The other was vivacious and tanned, wore her hair in a ponytail, dressed in tight fitting dresses and short skirts in primary colours and neon tones.One seemed to whisper “I’m here, I’ll be here for you” while the other shouted “I’m here, here and now.”It didn’t take long for you to decide which one to pursue. Like a moth to a flame.singapore Fastlove - Part 3 “Do you love me?” you ask.She takes a sidelong look at you.“If I said I did now, I’d be lying,” she says, in crisp, unaccented English.singapore The Roaring 20s - Part 1 There was a moment when your desire for her turned into disgust for yourself.You looked around the room, glancing over framed pictures of her and her family, studying the tired teak furniture and listening to the soft purring of the air-conditioner. She slept beside you, unaware that you were awake. You could hear her soft breathing, which seemed loudly to you than it actually was.“What the hell am I doing here?” you remember thinking to yourself.Almost silently, you gathered your belongings and slipped out the bedroom and slipped out the front door.Outside it was about 5 am in the morning. You walked along the corridor, glancing down to see your car illegally parked below, wondering which route would get you home, as quickly as possible.singapore Everything Counts You wake up in the morning to the radio, tuned to a station named after a perfect score on a test.When you drive to work, the guy next to you at the lights slowly looks you over, probably hating you for being younger and driving a nicer car than him.In the office, you’re hit by a constant barrage of emails, phone calls, instant and text messages, leaving you little time to gaze out your window and enjoy the breathtaking view of the city.When you party at night, the first question from almost every girl you meet is “what do you do for a living?”Sometimes you leave the clubs around midnight, taking long slow drives by yourself down a sodium-lit Shenton Way just for the hell of it, looking up to see some office windows still burning bright, wondering to yourself what everyone’s working so hard for, these days.singapore Kismet - Part 4 There was a moment that evening when everything just seemed more lucid. When superfluous sounds faded away, when your vision only registered what was immediately in front of you. When you focused all your attention on her, on the movements of her hands, on how she was dressed, on how she was seated, legs crossed, on the faint floral scent she left in the air. Strangely you didn’t seem to register what she was saying, although you knew it was about some book she’d read, or some movie she’d seen.Your mind raced to store this amongst the catalogue of cinematic moments in your life, knowing that somehow, this event would change things, forever.singapore Life Stories - Part 2 You bought your first jazz albums during your JC days because of a girl named Lynette who loved Ella and Coltrane.You started taking tennis more seriously later that same year because of a girl named Karen.Although you’d been watching operas since you were 15, you first appreciated them when you saw Madama Butterfly at the university cultural centre, ironically with a Japanese-American girl named Yoko who’d never dated Asian guys.You first read Don DeLillo later that same year, when a girl named Eileen in Introduction to Anthropology recommended White Noise.Every girl teaches you something about yourself.singapore Fastlove - Part 2 You’re driving her black BMW coupe faster than you should. Thankfully the elevated road heading to Central is almost deserted at this time of night. The car flies over the tarmac, thudding softly each time it crosses an expansion joint.It’s about a month before the handover and the mood in the city is mixed. Some dread the change, whilst others are euphoric, expectant.Her two best friends have moved with their families, seeking new pastures in Canada and Australia. Her parents decided to stay, “to see what happens,” as she says, deadpan.An exit looms ahead, and she signals for you to turn off. You go hard on the brakes, and the tires squeal as the car negotiates the bend, descending rapidly to street level.singapore Fastlove - Part 1 A yellow Gallardo lines up next to you at the lights.You turn and see the girl in the passenger seat looking at you and your car, making sure that you see her. You suspect she’s trying real hard to look bored, just as the lights go green and the Lambo takes off, spinning its wheels for a split second before exploding down the road towards the next set of lights.I cannot liveI can't breatheUnless you do this with mesingapore Kismet - Part 3 Of all the girls you’d dated, she probably had the most exotic name. The most fabulous, the most unique, conjuring up grainy images of distant lands and romantic sunsets. Reminding you that fate played a crucial role in affairs of the heart. Reminding you that in life, there are always things that lie beyond your control.You wondered how her name may have changed the way she led her life. How it may have changed the way she related to you. You never found the answers to those questions, as the relationship started to spiral downwards, flinging you further and further apart.singapore Summer It was a hot day in July when she packed her stuff and moved out. You had argued because she’d once again left the air-conditioning on all day whilst you were both out, a wasteful habit that annoyed you.The apartment was unusually quiet as you sat on the couch, alone.Outside the sun had yet to set but the streetlights had already come on. You saw two kids in the distance, running in an open field, flying white kites.You could hear her favourite song playing over and over in your head, as you wondered if she would return.singapore Linjiang Street The stamp on the back of your right hand is still visible, administered twenty-four hours earlier by the bouncer at a dark club playing a curious but pleasant mix of Chinese R&B and European house music. That’s where you met her.She crosses her long legs and leans forward on the metal stool, deftly using the thin wooden chopsticks to lift a piece of chou dofu to your lips. The skin has a crispy texture, yielding warm and smooth tofu that you slide across your tongue.Every now and then, you notice a guy in the passing crowd taking a second look at her – this tall, pretty, elfin-faced girl with a perfect milky complexion, feeding you with a pair of disposable wooden chopsticks.You close your eyes and savour the moment. The noise of the crowd, the refreshingly chilly air, the fragrance of the foods mixing with her faint perfume. Right here, right now.singapore Happy She’s dancing by herself now, her petite body swaying from side to side along with the quick tempo, feet more or less on the same spot on the small, crowded dance floor.She’s got on a short tube dress, in a black satiny material covered in a pattern made up of white spades. For a moment, you wonder how different she would look if the pattern were made up of red hearts, silver diamonds or gold clubs.Her eyes are shut and there’s a smile on her lips. Her hands move in a constant, circular motion in front of her face. She starts to mouth the words to the song, her bright satiny pink nail polish glinting every now and then.It started out with a kissHow did it end up like this?It was only a kiss, it was only a kissNow I’m falling asleepAnd she’s calling a cabWhile he’s having a smokeAnd she’s taking a dragNow they’re going to bedAnd my stomach is sickAnd it’s all in my headBut she’s touching his chestNow, he takes off her dressNow, let me gosingapore