Lost Denim

I’ve only worn this gorgeously soft denim dress as it should be worn once- with a strip of matching denim cloth as a belt. But as the phenomenon of the washer being a black hole of knick knacks dictated, the belt was to be forever lost to the god of lost things after one of its laundry runs. I’ll miss you, matching belt. We were never meant to be together.

Pa and I went exploring down old colonial-style houses in Little India one day. We marveled at the intricate ornaments adorning some facades, while he told stories from when he was a kid. It was a very different life that my parents had- a Singapore that was more laid back, dirtier… our small country developed so fast that I could only imagine when they talked to me about climbing into drains to catch guppies, or cracking open seeds with the heels of their wooden clogs (on the streets!) without caring about the billions of bacteria festering everywhere. Times have changed.

I imagined telling stories about my childhood to my non-existent kids and what exciting experiences I’ve had seem so sterile compared to my parents’. I guess it’s the price we have to pay for the conveniences that progress offers.