My retirement dream is to be a street busker.
Stand somewhere near a Singapore MRT station with a portable electric piano, playing all my favourite songs.
Big problem.
I don’t know how to play.
And please don’t ask me to memorise the notes.
If the government ever opens a vocational music school for seniors,
I’ll be the first in line.
Not for certification.
Just survival.
When I was younger, I was most rich after receiving ang pow during Chinese New Year. As an adult, the real joy comes from giving. Chinese New Year is not just about the oranges, the steamboat, or the noise of reunion dinners. It is about that simple moment when you
I studied the Indonesian language a few years ago. I have forgotten most of it. But I never forgot how it made me feel. It is a beautiful language. Refined. Gentle. Almost poetic. It paints instead of naming. Breast becomes buah dada, fruit of the chest. The sun becomes matahari,
Food for Thought One meal during Chinese New Year can easily cost twenty times more than what we spend on a normal day. A table filled with abalone, prawns, fish, roast meats, and bottles of drinks. Laughter. Photos. Prosperity tossed high in the air. It is celebration. It is tradition.
I am the strictest boss I have ever worked for. When I failed to hit my own KPIs, I called myself into a meeting. No appeal. No warning letter. Immediate termination. Now I am unemployed, and still reporting to the same boss tomorrow.