it seemed so uncharacteristic of me that i chose to fly home a week earlier, but home is not your friends or family friends' apartments no matter how swanky the apartment or district or amazing the city. strange as it sounds, but champs-elysees, passy or edgware road cannot hold a candle to jurong east. i'm still adjusting -- at home, the lights seem coloured differently and the light switches and shower handles feel off; shops have closed and opened in holland village and no more currency conversions or timezone calculations in the head. and as usual, worst of all is the smothering humidity.
my bed still has to learn the shapes of my body, and my eyes do not have the luxury of thick blinds anymore to keep away the morning sun. the sun comes in so strong the way it doesn't in paris or london. i can't believe that just two days ago, just three weeks ago, i was in the hustle and bustle of tubes and metros, and booming metropolises. the other country, the other vocabulary and language, the other person. everything in paris and london will go on without me, and singapore has been too. but singapore is so beautiful to me now -- bare trees and irritating layers of clothes make way for blooming trees and a shining sun, and it is a new day.