Starry Night Suprise
I walked along the river at the Esplanade, marvelling at how beautiful Singapore is at night. The breeze shaved my skin, teasing with its coolness.
They have a small stage along the riverfront. Tonight, a musician is performing her heart out to a small but noisy crowd, each one of them lapping up her melodic voice. It is actually rather good, and I had previously jostled with my friends to get some good seats (it was free), but left them and went for the walk instead.
I settled down on the benches along the riverfront. To my left, a bunch of kids were jostling excitedly, snapping moments for themselves that they will look back years later and laugh at how silly their hairstyle had been back then (that thought made me smile).
To my right, a couple adopted a more professional approach, complete with tripods and zoom lens. They were taking turns looking through the lens, seeing the other side of the river. I looked across, wondering what was it that had them smiling with silent contentness. Not seeing anything out of the usual, I leaned back, and necked my head upwards.
And was rewarded with a most beautiful sight.
The night was dark enough for the stars to come out and play, little twinkling spots, with non-twinkling blights (satellites) blotting the sky in its apparent randomness. The cloud formations moved, encouraged strongly by the wind. Big, small, in all shapes and sizes.
Sitting there, looking at it, it doesn't feel like the cloud itself is moving; it feels as if I am, like the whole world is, always in a constant motion. A reminder that no matter what happens, tomorrow is another day that the sun will rise and set upon, another night when the stars comes out to delight us, blinking almost mischieviously. A reminder that the worries of yesterday, like silly haircuts, will become nothing more than old news.
That life goes on.
In the background, the crowd broke into a rapturous applause.
They have a small stage along the riverfront. Tonight, a musician is performing her heart out to a small but noisy crowd, each one of them lapping up her melodic voice. It is actually rather good, and I had previously jostled with my friends to get some good seats (it was free), but left them and went for the walk instead.
I settled down on the benches along the riverfront. To my left, a bunch of kids were jostling excitedly, snapping moments for themselves that they will look back years later and laugh at how silly their hairstyle had been back then (that thought made me smile).
To my right, a couple adopted a more professional approach, complete with tripods and zoom lens. They were taking turns looking through the lens, seeing the other side of the river. I looked across, wondering what was it that had them smiling with silent contentness. Not seeing anything out of the usual, I leaned back, and necked my head upwards.
And was rewarded with a most beautiful sight.
The night was dark enough for the stars to come out and play, little twinkling spots, with non-twinkling blights (satellites) blotting the sky in its apparent randomness. The cloud formations moved, encouraged strongly by the wind. Big, small, in all shapes and sizes.
Sitting there, looking at it, it doesn't feel like the cloud itself is moving; it feels as if I am, like the whole world is, always in a constant motion. A reminder that no matter what happens, tomorrow is another day that the sun will rise and set upon, another night when the stars comes out to delight us, blinking almost mischieviously. A reminder that the worries of yesterday, like silly haircuts, will become nothing more than old news.
That life goes on.
In the background, the crowd broke into a rapturous applause.
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