EXT. 444 GEYLANG RD., SINGAPORE — Midnight

it’s buzzing; the faint hum of neon lights at the corner store. I can hear the faint thumps of bass and the occasional mild chatter from the karaoke bar, and the man loitering outside gives me a peering side eye as I slow down my pace. the colors slowly bleed into every afterthought. white noise, that’s all there is. a cacophony to my senses; the stench of blanched gai lan from the 24/7 sichuan restaurant nearby infiltrating my lungs, stale air unraveling as it passes, taxi cab pulling up to collect the group of adults piling out of the bar and whining about their blue collar jobs, hoping to escape this city the next holiday off. the usual. the norm of the cycle. their wishes echo along the stretch of the street and I catch them before they turn into another empty promise, regret tasting more bitter bile along the years. capture the moment just in case. ah, I think — this is the part of town that never sleeps.

the missing bit of sunshine peeking through the monsoon.

reconnected with an old friend.

we spent the day just driving around and watching the sun set on the beach. we talked about what happened the last three years we’ve lost contact. the pieces have outgrown their spots. the puzzle remains unfinished. that’s okay.

The first afternoon of June.

It’s been a while, but catching up in a corner of a local McDonald’s feels a little bit like home. 

We recounted how much we’ve grown these past two decades.

We’ve come a long way. But the inside jokes never change.

I treasure these little moments.

the world keeps dissolving under my fingers.

My skin keeps igniting at the seams. The world continues to turn, and I continue to erode like the very earth underneath my feet. I keep running, but I have nowhere to run to.