THE SHELF
Everything I have written down, grouped by the year it happened, newest first within each group. There are only six pieces so far — small things, mostly, except for one night in November when I walked home past Chin Swee Road and heard sirens I still cannot place. I keep them here the way I keep notebooks on the kitchen shelf: not sorted by theme, just by when I finally had the patience to type them out. If you prefer to begin at the landing page instead, Start will take you there.
I do not publish on a schedule. Some notes sit in draft for weeks while I decide whether they are finished or merely paused. The dates below are when each piece was written, not when the thing itself happened — though often the two are close. I have not numbered them; the shelf is not a series. Read in any order you like, or start with whichever photograph catches your eye.
2026
15 July 2026
The Uncle and the Wet Ring
The uncle at the corner kopitiam sets his cup down at the same angle every morning, and the wet ring he leaves has become part of the table's geography. I wrote this after sitting one seat away for eleven days, pretending to read while I counted how long the circle took to fade.
20 May 2026
Canal Path, After the Rain
May brought afternoons that broke without warning. This walk was taken between two showers, when the park connector still held the smell of drains and the railing was too wet to lean on. I wrote it standing under an awning, watching a mynah shake water from its wings.
2025
12 November 2025
From My End of Kampong Bahru
A warm November evening, dinner on the Tiong Bahru side, then the walk up Kampong Bahru Road toward home. Sirens from the direction of Chin Swee, lights on a facade, and me still walking because I did not stop. I wrote this months later; the uncertainty is still there.
28 September 2025
A Folded Corner at Redhill
Redhill platform, off-peak, a paperback with a folded page corner left on the bench. I missed my train watching it, wondering whether someone would come back or whether the book was simply abandoned mid-chapter. Neither happened while I stood there.
14 August 2025
The Lamp I Leave On
August evenings when the corridor goes dark early and I am still out walking. The lamp on the ledge is small, warm, probably visible from two doors down. I started leaving it on after a neighbour mentioned that lit windows make the block feel less empty.
3 June 2025
Fourteen Steps Up the Market
The wet market near Jalan Bukit Merah, counted on a slow Tuesday: fourteen steps, handrail worn smooth on the left side where most people climb. The fish auntie at the top knows I take my bag without extra ice. I wrote this because the number stuck.
Neighbourhood scale — where most of these walks begin and end.