Here in Singapore, creativity too often feels cloaked in class, tucked away in corners accessible only to those who can afford the luxury of leisure. It’s a sobering truth, one that deepens my appreciation for the vivid, unapologetic culture I’ve just experienced in Taiwan.

I’ve been taking photos with the Nikon Z F camera for a week now, and it feels like having a new companion in an old, familiar story. It feels intimate in the way I’ve been able quickly bring it into my life, easing into the flow of my creative practice. I’ve always been a reflective person, and it’s even more telling in the way I take my pictures.

Her partner was sitting next to her, usually quiet and reserved, and shifted noticeably. The partner let out a long sigh, almost as if the name itself conjured something she needed to physically exhale. Finally, she muttered, “I plead the fifth.” It was a soft, almost reflexive response, but it held a strange weight.

It’s taken me a long time to recognise it openly. Admitting it feels like a confession of sorts, as if by acknowledging this part of myself, I’m stepping into an identity I once saw as distant, even forbidden. I think much of my hesitation comes from my past relationship, where “writer” felt like a title that belonged to someone else, someone close to me. I didn’t want to appropriate what felt so integral to him, as if writing was somehow a limited resource, reserved for a chosen few. It was as though I had drawn an invisible line, telling myself that being a writer was something only certain people could rightfully claim, and I was not one of them.

In Between Spaces is a made-up exhibition with a collection of black-and-white film photographs exploring the quiet beauty of Sydney and Singapore. These images capture fleeting moments of urban life, revealing intimacy amidst distance and transforming the mundane into the mysterious. A meditative journey through light and shadow, In Between Spaces invites you to slow down and contemplate the spaces between.

I was never good at following through my own promises. I begin with energy, with brilliance even, striking out with the promise of something well-founded. But somewhere along the line, the effort dissipates.

So, I find myself asking: why does this space lag behind? Where are the experts who are meant to examine these innovations critically, to expand the research and build a body of knowledge that straddles both counselling and tech?

There’s something there—a richness in the process of self-reflection—that could deepen our understanding of how counsellors can better integrate technology into their practice. I’ll need to work through the theoretical underpinnings carefully, but I feel a sense of momentum here.