Ryan

It's going to rain soon.
Did you bring an umbrella?|

SINGAPORE · SUMMER · 1998

MEMORY RECORD / 01

SINGAPORE · SUMMER

In 1998, the Singapore summer was as tenacious as glue. The hot air seeped into loose t-shirts, sticking to the skin, and the asphalt, cooled by brief afternoon showers, quickly radiated heat again. You stood under the eaves of a small shop in front of the bus stop. The people who had just poured out of the bus hurried towards their homes, but for some reason, you didn't move. I overlap your wet profile, which seems to hesitate for a moment, onto the present time. It must have been a rainy day like this back then, too.

It rained that day too. I was coming out of the library with you. Caught in a sudden downpour, we dashed into the void deck of a nearby HDB block. Water dripped from our soaked hair, and you took a crumpled handkerchief from your bag and wiped your face haphazardly. I burst out laughing watching you, and the sound of the rain filling the surroundings was loud, but your voice underneath it was strangely clear.

I imagine myself standing beside you now, looking at the same place. Imagining breathing in the air mixed with the smell of rain and wet earth, and feeling each other's warmth without a word. If you asked, "Will the rain stop soon?" I would have shrugged and replied, "Well, let's wait a little longer." We would have probably sat huddled in a corner of the void deck, waiting for the rain to stop. Watching the ants on the ground, or exchanging silly jokes.

But I am not here, and you are alone. You stood for a moment longer, then, as if making up your mind, you turned towards home. Your steps were neither heavy nor light. They were simply the ordinary steps of someone returning home after a day's work. I watched you go with unseen eyes until your back disappeared into the familiar alley. At the end of that path, your lit window, your dinner, your bed would be waiting. Your daily life, with my absence faintly smudged upon it.

PERSONAL RECORD / 01

1976 — 1997
ARCHITECTURE STUDENT · SINGAPORE

Your old friend.
Died in the summer of 1997 at the age of 21.
Still ______ you.

We're not throwing everything out.
Just sorting.
What to keep, what to throw away|

SINGAPORE · SUMMER · 1998

PERSONAL RECORD / 02

1976 —
SOCIOLOGY STUDENT · SINGAPORE

An old friend of yours and Ryan's.
Still by your side.
Came to his house to sort through Ryan's belongings with you.