I want to really yell at Singaporeans. I really do. What used to be an uphill trend is now going downhill. I love our country, but this atmosphere, this chaotic hullabaloo is not good for our nation. I’ll do a proper blogpost about it- but I need a promise. I need a promise that good Singaporeans start speaking up – good Singaporeans start promoting rational political thought rather than radical spouts of anger. Reblog or make your own notes and posts – just don’t let the sensible Singaporean be drowned out . I’ll try to post up my thoughts by tomorrow – but remember political discourse should not be limited only during the election season. It should be a consistently engaging analysis of how our system functions and governs itself, it is our livelihood and our framework.
Don’t let us screw ourselves over.
—
The rock stood two giants high and a couple of feet wide. It’s granite feel reminded Sandra of the old times. She gazed at the distant edge of the rock where she could only observe the speck flickering in the darkness. Her eyes travelled against the grain of the rock , downwards till she was at eye level with the ancient writings.
In cursive, and almost faded, the poem was Sandra’s handle on reality. The world around her had changed , too much to some, extremely too much to her. Yet the rock stood certain. In a world where museums were gone, Sarah understood the power of the rock – it was more than a fact of intellectual sustenance. It was a memory, a tribute to the past, the forming of her present. It was a portal to the past , a frightening warning. And yet an opportunity for hope. Sarah continued reading, and as she read her mind began to shut down.
The drugs had set in.
Remember me, lonely soul
’twas the night before Christmas
Fortitude and solitude
Married under the mistletoe
Frightened yet obedient
Living in snowy delusions
My heart is a broken compass
The holidays never began
