I was walking out of the mazes of private estates after teaching at my alma mater this morning. It had some sort of nostalgic feel to it, as I walked passed rows of bungalows. It was unfamiliar, yet familiar in some sense, a distant memory from what felt like so long ago.
I decided to lunch at the small coffee shop near the busstops, tucking into a plate of chicken rice, unchanged since the last time ate it, when I was still donning my secondary school uniform of white and silver buttons. seven silver buttons. It was a quaint little coffeeshop, unchanged, untainted perhaps.
I would still remember the Saturdays where my section would head there for lunch before popping into the 7-11 beside for a slurpee, and dashing back into school to make it for afternoon rehearsals. we always made it.
As I tucked into my food at the coffeshop, savouring every bite ( i had time to kill before rehearsal at bukit timah ), many of my secondary school days memories flooded back, so real and vivid as if it was only yesterday.
Things was so much simpler then, and so much less hectic.
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Tomorrow's another busy day, I ought to be sleeping soon. Good night.
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