From Agent L (a pseudonym): “This conference will explore housing policies and the situation of homeless people and migrant-workers in Japan, Korea, Hong Kong and Taiwan. It features multiple site visits and local engagement.”
Today a couple of church-employees showed us around a church-carpark that has been re-purposed as an overnight shelter for our homeless friends.
Yesterday was my first time attending a performance of Shakespeare's plays. I have read a number of his texts before (Othello, and The Tempest, just to name a few) but actors bring a new dimension to the performance. As my acting-lessons coach once said, “The text is dead. Actors have creative freedom to choose how they want to emote the words.”
Of course, the behind-the-scenes crew, and not just the cast, are outstanding in their individual and collective genius – time does not suffice to list all their luminary contributions.
Included in the crew are Rayann Condy (as Intimacy Director), and Matt Hutchinson (in the department of Puppets, Puppetry Design & Direction). And Lee Yew Jin (sound design), and Peps Goh (fight-choreography).
I would like to highlight the physical space as another actor in its (her?) own right. The venue is Fort Canning Park. As the sun lowered itself behind skyscrapers – which, in the blue light of dusk, glowed softly with a thousand electric lights – a couple of large birds (wildlife, not props) soared above the greenery. “Eagles,” my companion-for-the-evening said. What a strange sound they are making, I thought. I've never heard them vocalise before.
The combined forces were impressive. More than 80 choir members glided onto the stage, clothed in black, as if they were wraiths, now summoned to writhe before the Final Judge, before whom no one can be found blameless.
And I, a shame-faced mortal, sat with my flesh, (which is unceasingly beset with attacks of urine and excrement), awaiting the Strings section to stab the air with dramatic statements of tension and unease.
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep;
'God is not dead, nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!'
– H. W. Longfellow
I have never had a father’s protection from danger, and I have never had a mother’s tender touch.
Every passer-by could see I was lost and abandoned, but no one had the willingness to help; or, even if they had, they lacked the ability. They shook their heads, and said, “it’s sad to see this”, and then went on with their lives.
It seems the wind is now blowing in the direction of community-building, in various small pockets of society.
I have been learning a lot, through such communities, over the past few days.
But, as an eccentric-yet-wise elder said, “I learnt a lot. But by the time I learnt a lot, I am dying. So I wrote a book to pass on what I have learnt.”
This is by way of passing it on.
P. S. I am grateful for no Covid lock-down today. shivers at the thought.
music
The young pianists – twenty-somethings, they looked like – were performing on either a Steinway or a Fazioli: grand pianos. Bach, and Liszt, and Mozart seemed to be popular choices. One of the pianists even nourished the audience with her own composition, a piece for a small ensemble: 1 harp, 2 cellos, 2 double basses, 1 percussion (drums), 1 horn, 1 flute, 1 clarinet.
That pianist-composer thanked God for holding her hand while walking through difficult times. She shared that her hands had suffered an injury while preparing for a performance.
Don't bother with what my fellow fisherman said. I thought he was my friend, but really, he's just an unpleasant boy who happens to be housed in the classroom as me.
I'm thoroughly embarrassed by his behaviour. I won't repeat the same words that he used to insult you.
I will remove him from my life once I have no further use for him.
Dear fish, tell me more about you.
Who are your parents? Did you always spend your life in this canal, or did you come from somewhere farther away?
It's so strange. The air that sustains me, out of water – it suffocates you. The water you swim in – that's your amniotic fluid – it drowns me.
O fish, you are my sibling, my cousin. We come from the same Father. Sorry that I put a hook into your lip. Will you forgive me? I didn't know any better.
