Tuesday, 19 July 2016

This is not a sponsored post.

This is not a sponsored post. This is not a skinny Chinese girl in tumblr-worthy visuals. This is not a how-to, it is not an itinerary. This will not teach you how to get from A to B under X dollars. This is not like, share and comment. There is no discount code at the end. This is not a complaint about thirty five degrees celcius. This is not a layman's commentary on Brexit. This will not change your life. This is not I miss you even though I do, I do.

This is a museum of hellos and a curation of goodbyes. This is an inside joke you will never understand. This is your neutral accent you put on with angmohs. This is chicken rice mix that doesn't taste quite right. This is the only snowball you will pitch in your life. This is the last cigarette in a week-old pack of Luckies. This is an apology. This is for the love you let go. This is three months' worth of left swipes on tinder. This is a Syrian girl child selling roses to tourists past midnight in Taksim. This is a cancelled flight to Barcelona. This is a metro strike in Rome. This is a tube strike in London. This is a tram strike in wherever-the-fuck else. This is subpar Asian food spelled inaccurately on the menu. This is a misplaced lah tumbling from the mouth of someone who thinks he knows Singlish. This is nihao said by a white person. This is 你好 said by a Chinese person.

This is solidarity. This is for every time somebody knows that the country you are from is not in China. This is the double take every time they realise how well you speak English. This is you giving up explaining why you're so good in the first place. This is a kitchen argument on the pronunciation of scone. This is a game of drunken twister and Joe has skipped your turn for the third time but you don't mind. This is a never ending prank war. This is a Marquez novel peeking out from under your strewn scarf. This is a Deeper Conversation. This is an impromptu night out, a neon mistake. This is a schoolgirl fantasy played out at three AM. This is the perfect omelette, pale and cheesed-stuffed. This was winter. This was spring. This is summer. It is still summer. This is the feeling you get when he calls you by the name you were born with. This is the wonder of a Moroccan pigeon pastilla. This is the bad bitch who changed her tampon in the Sahara. This is the aftermath of an Ibizan rave. This is unfinished business. This is the realisation that you are nothing, yet everything you will ever need.

This is and to all Singaporeans and residents of Singapore, a warm welcome home.

1 comment :

  1. what a moving piece. Very thought provoking :) Thanks for sharing this one.