At half past 6 in the eve, I was on a bus.
Along Tiong Bahru road, I spied an old man on the road.
Steadily he pedalled his trusty bicycle along the bus bay, one exposed knee following the other.
A load of cardboard trailed behind him, occasionally wavering like a koi's tail.
I gazed at him from the cool of the bus and wondered about this man.
Was his life difficult?
Is he unhappy?
At 10 past 10, I was on an escalator.
Along the sheltered walkway outside AMK MRT, I spied a basker.
It seems that every night without fail, he sings here with his trusty electric guitar.
Tonight, it was a country waltz.
In my mind, I imagined the old man on his bicycle and all these words would be the lyrics to the waltz.