[masjid sultan, singapore]
At the fringes of City Hall, along the sub-hub of Bugis, is Arab Street. Rising out of the buzz of middle-eastern food and niche boutiques is this mosque. You’ll hear the deep drone of prayers every day around noon, I think, a cascade over workers and young students; a constant centre as all else whirrs on.
It’s a nice disorientation as I walk by it, a respite from the corporate office.
One day, the sky loomed low, a dull grey, and forced my gaze that much more upwards.
The outline of a sacred home against heaven.