Everybody thinks their story is most tragic. I am no different.
Jeannette, Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit
I stand atop Mount Faber, looking out into the vast, dark expanse that is Singapore. I'm told that it is the highest point of the island.
It's beautiful at night. During the day, it becomes like any other Asian city. Busy and plentiful, though relatively clean.
But at night...
At night it would light up, its inhabitants asleep, resting for what tomorrow may bring them. Tonight, I bear them no grudges.
Tonight I marvel.
I look at the flickering lights in the distance, rows of little orange beans lighting up the entire island.
"There is no part of Singapore that is dark," said my friend who was also my host. "Everywhere you look there is light."
And then God said, let there be light. I can't remember which day that was supposed to be.
I look at their life, and realise that it is only and exactly that. Their life. So much more to this world than our own. Their tears, their pain, their frustration, their anger, their love, their joy.
I bid them a slow goodnight, letting it drift into the etherness of the never ending night.