The gathering of a day. This is a memory that isn’t really mine. Where and when I grew up, things were changing away from the communal sharing of such personal space (and ritual – laundry – as it were). But I can borrow memories when other people let me.

Time on a wall.

Once upon a time I remembered what the old symbols meant, stood for, said. Not anymore.

There are parts of Singapore that aren’t cosmopolitan, new, shiny, updated.

Small pockets of nostalgia are found in the corners of ordinary lives.