I remembered how, back in university, I chose to study in China without knowing why. Maybe to test my own endurance. It was hard. Loneliness came to dull the pain, and in that dullness I found a strange kind of comfort. You were there.

What is it we’re trying to see when we stare so hard out of these large windows? Are we looking for proof that we were here, or for something that might give us permission to leave?

Captured at a recent Pink Dot event in Singapore, the photograph presents a vibrant display of pink balloons adorning a flight of stairs. While the initial impression might lean towards celebratory joy, we're potentially invited to a deeper consideration of the distances that can exist even within seemingly unified groups.

How quickly books become waste. How easily knowledge is discarded when it no longer fits the architecture of modern pride. We could follow one family of books. Exiled from their shelves, confused, betrayed. Not by strangers, but by the very institution they believed would protect them.

Is such a dance a strength or a weakness? I'm told it looks like a poor state of indecision, a lack of clarity or strategy, like a dancer out of sync against expected steps. But maybe it’s a different kind of clarity, a faith in the nonlinear, the unpredictable movements of life.

Each figure hidden in high-contrast black and white becomes part of a singular form, a community of worn-out workers, carried along by the currents of routine, stability, and financial expectation.

The long stretch of the KPE highway evokes the relentless pursuit of progress and the ingrained expectation of forward momentum within Singaporean society. The curve in the road subtly hints at the deviations and unforeseen turns that punctuate even the most meticulously planned journeys, a signal to the unpredictable nature of life.

Like the cyclist pedaling into the shadows, we are invited to consider our own journeys through liminal spaces, and the quiet resilience demanded when we choose to ride through, despite the weight of unseen eyes and unspoken expectations.