*November 2019 Just before the chaos mode Grandma was calling me on viber asking me when the British gave independency to this rural tiny place I was at. Was it later or earlier than Cyprus? She was obsessed. Got into an antagonism. As if she wasn’t at a tiny place herself on the other side of the world. I was only slightly hypochondriac then able to stroll around in 50 degrees and eat at filthy stalls at local hoaker centers. Sugarcane lime juice. Got tears for the first time from experiencing an artwork. Music had already won me on that. Realised in retrospect that I photographed many spoilers (pic 9) of our normality to follow. We were swimming in the rain, walking on artificial beaches, making “smoking allies” on terraces of skyscrapers. Sentosa island was full of snakes. No one told me. I would have never go if I knew, you know my terror. Architecture was an ambiguous synergic landscape. Teresa Hak Kyung Cha had a tribute piece in a museum, he made it. No romance in this city at all, no permit to kiss publicly. Just a Budha in every corner awaiting. Still free, naive, romantic just before an enforced scratch of our cheek’s skin on a roughly plastered painted wall