549pm


singapore.

These digital markers screw the mind sometimes. Another 549pm, and you think back to previous 549pm-s, stringing up various events of their simply happening along this cyclical-linear continuum called time.

You might be walking armed with purpose to a 6pm appointment, and a past 549pm comes over you with all the strength of a old lover’s embrace. You’re sitting and mulling a drink at 1118pm, and recall slightly less than an hour later some days ago, life took on a different colour. We may feel in a kind of present-future tension separate from the past; yet all these past 549pms, and 1032pm and 112pms have us awash in a present-past. You might begin leapfrogging dates, simultaneously today and ago. You may begin extrapolating to future times and dates, and that is where the confusion begins.

The sky above, perhaps by virtue of perspective, perhaps by romantic elegising, gives respite. The eternal expanse holds no distinct markers.No permanent marks. It only hints: at days beginning, or nights coming. Or suggests high noon activity, or deep night meditations. It offers periods as a verb, instead of moments.

My new office sits away from the high city buildings, away even from hdb flats. The sky, not its lines, is allowed to gently dominate. Walking off away from work under this sky, looking up, reminds me to lay down past and future too. To trust the present.

I’ve always thought this is why people in all cultures across the world look skywards. To leave behind fickle strains and reason, and to trust.

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I also love the weave of lush leaves licking the blue above.

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