Mid-Nights i // I'm currently out of new/different things to say about my island home, so I thought I'd just show you some guerilla glimmers of midnight Singapore. (I'm still bored of triplet towers and billion dollar Gardens)
Sometimes going home late, I chance upon moments like these: where all is silent but the whole night quivers with the sheer tension of possibilities. The strict lines blur, because the Agents have gone back into their shells, and left us to our own agencies (and maybe that's scarier: having no one to blame but ourselves). Is that the MRT, or a great centipeded Dragon, garlanded in concrete? Are those streetlamps, or great shimmering orbs of dreams, chained until the morningstar defuses them again? Where do the mynahs go at night? Maybe this road won't lead me home, this time.
It is the middle of the night. And sometimes centers act like pivots, points upon which worlds teeter, turn or tumble. I believe there is still magic here.