Cluttered food courts redeem the soul of shopping centres. They are dirt cheap but still immaculately clean.
People who snore this loud should be blacklisted from hostels.
I took two photos of a CCTV camera 10mins ago and haven’t yet been arrested.
Making the most of free toast.
Where are the homeless people? I’m under a sheltered bridge which has benches.
The duck boat almost ran me over whilst I took a photo of it’s cautionary sign.
Relieved to find that I loaded Rage Against The Machine on my iPod. Full volume “Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me” works as a sublime soundtrack for my final walk around Singapore.
All construction workers are Indian. Singapore residents must have taught them tidiness and then retreated to air conditioning.
Four hours wait for a four hour bus. And they cleaned me out of currency. The hunt begins for a S$1.95 lunch.
Does ANYBODY live here?
Aah. Bang on 12 Noon and the tower blocks spew shiny bankers into the malls below. Not quite people but close enough.
When excessive thoughts and emotions defy writing’s limitations, my headaches begin.
Singapore’s death penalty threat gives bordering Malaysian customs an easy ride.
I will happily never return to Singapore. Three days is enough thanks.
