my name jeff

Singapore

hc is my city and my grades stay shitty

Published Work

Travel Writing Competition 2018

a foreigner sits on the steps of my house

Lately I’ve been on a bender of nostalgia. I can’t remember when it all started, but it seems like the new in thing to engage in these days-- reminiscing for a past, an anchor in the vast sea of life that I’ve barely strayed away from. In truth, I do not know what is it that I seek. It starts off, like all other unquantifiable anxieties, as an unease manifesting in the back of my mind whenever the hours get late. 11pm- the witching hour. I stare out of my window, taking in the concrete landscape below sightlessly without particularly looking out for anything, and think about how foreign I am, in my own tiny island country.

One might argue that “foreign” is too strong a word to use in this context. I have lived here for many years - and I think, if nothing majorly life-changing were to happen, I will remain here for many more. To be foreign...

Food Writing Competition 2018

chasing dumplings

Tuesday evening, in the juncture between afternoon and twilight. Return home from school. Mom is on the computer. Sister out for CCA (as usual), dad is away on a business trip. Waiting for catering to arrive with dinner. Picture this: a typical modern family, at a day’s close, each absorbed in their own worlds until dinner arrives. Then: a quick gathering at the table, the murmur of scarce words exchanged, soft tinkering of porcelain bowls and wooden chopsticks, picking at products in styrofoam takeout boxes and plastic containers. A consummation without passion. 

It is almost impossible to visualise that: once upon a time, in this typical modern family, the act of eating food meant more than just the process of sustenance.

Another scene: I am five years old, and just starting to grasp at an understanding of the world. I have just gotten my Singapore passport, although it matters little to me, at this time. The abstract concepts of country,...

25 Words

Untitled

the passage of time means little to you- doesn't matter, since between us i keep the time for two. watching your elegies turn to eulogies.