NON FICTION: The Singaporean romance (Part I)

I squeezed my one-way ticket as I boarded the bus. The stub permeated in my sweaty palm, wet from anxiety and excitement. This is it, I thought. A new chapter in my life is about to unfold. I took out my phone and texted her, “On the way. See you love!”

I felt like I was diving head first into things, and perhaps moving in with somebody I just met wasn’t such a good idea, but I’ve always been enthralled by the spirit of adventure, and this was the beginning of one. I looked out into the passing landscape, not knowing what the near future held, and I sometimes wonder if I’d still have gotten onto that bus, had I known what it did.

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THROWBACK NON-FICTION: Joys of minimalism

So I was at a local food stall with Jo, staring at my glass of water. Deja vu. I knew I’ve lived this moment before but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Finger? Rhymes with anger. Anger makes me want to punch things. Punch? Kickboxing. Thailand. Then I remembered.

I was in Thailand, staring at my glass of water. I looked at the pitcher where it was poured from. Every meal came with a complimentary serving of refillable water. I didn’t get sick drinking the same water for the past few days, so I wasn’t even bothered if it came from the toilet pipe.

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