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coming home has always had a culture shock in its paradoxically familiar yet foreign mannerisms. the mind needs time to adjust in places where the heart has longed for.

the rushing crowds eager to plop their bums on empty seats of the mrt; eating without saying a word and rushing off asap; reserving seats at the hawker centres with tissue paper packs (this i still do not understand); why everyone has to talk so loudly and the list goes on...

however, one of the most poignant reminders that i am home is the atmosphere of competition. even the most mundane of daily routines would become american gladiators, what with the effort required to get what you want (now i reflect on those messy russian queues and can't quite decide which is better off) - and that seems to be the root of the "problem", and compromise the last resort. how odd. add to that the by-product comparison and conversations can turn bitter or uncomfortable, or the utterance of advice/recommendations/suggestions that one did not even ask for, (but) thankyouverymuch. sometimes it is casting pearls before swine.
its physical manifestation in ever-emerging buildings, expanding borders, changing façades.

having spent 2 1/2 years away from home, being back in singapore is more an experience of observation - how well i can recognise certain traits, how updated i am with headlines, if i still understand the local logic. somehow, i have become impartial despite all my homesickness and home has turned into a utopian concept in my naïve head.

there is such a divide between the reality that is, and the individual realities that are made; yet they co-exist in our (not-quite) sunny island.

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