And so here I am. Right in the thick of this moveable feast. Strange as it is, I love it all. The congested streets. The grime, the grit. Messy shopfronts, a prelude to the paraphernalia within. Shop owners coaxing unsuspecting tourists to get the best bang for their Baht. Tireless sellers carting wares balanced precariously … Continue reading Romancitycise
Category: prose
This is How We Broke Up
I have been struggling to write about this for a long while now. Perhaps because for a long time I wasn’t ready to share my honest thoughts. Lately though, after bouts of contemplation as Ramadan rolls around, I figured I should share my rumination on this experience with hopes of reaching out to anyone facing … Continue reading This is How We Broke Up
Hello, Grief, My Old Friend
How are you doing? I hope you have been okay. My heart has been feeling too many things at once. My mind has been working on overdrive. Sometimes these two conflate and then I start to neglect my body. I forget how to breathe. Recent events had brought you here, I know. The Christchurch shooting. … Continue reading Hello, Grief, My Old Friend
A Heart So Full
Is there a word for a heart that swells with both longing and bliss? I suppose then, my heart was just this. This feeling that cannot be strung into words. Just tears. And a heart so full. “And one of His signs is that He has created for you, spouses from amongst yourselves so that … Continue reading A Heart So Full
Table for One: In Praise of Solitude
"By no means all people who live their lives in the absence of company are lonely, while it is possible to experience acute loneliness while in a relationship or among a group of friends," mused Olivia Laing in her meditation on loneliness, The Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone. This irony is … Continue reading Table for One: In Praise of Solitude
Tracing My Roots: From Java to Singapura
The Migration Story of My Late Grandfather, Omar Bin Shariff The edges of the sepia-toned photograph are yellowed and torn. Yet, the muted image endures over the years, resilient through different hands and changing weather - reminiscent of the subject within its tired frame. The man's left arm half-rested on the bonnet; perhaps an afterthought seconds before the click of … Continue reading Tracing My Roots: From Java to Singapura
The Book Jacket 