It’s tough being alone in Singapore. Part of the problem is you’re never alone, and yet you are.
Surrounded by crowds of people, with heads lowered to smartphone screens, or eyes determinedly gazing in the middle distance and avoiding your face, you can get the sense of being alone, very much so.
Human nature is more complex, though. There are heroes who step up their game, and move to help others. The ones who would rescue a baby trapped on a ledge. Ones who help an unrelated old man cross the street. And the brave ones who every day work against crime, and fire.
But this is not their story. They embellish the pages of this tale, bringing much needed charm to an otherwise dreary outlook of many, too many, engaged in the national pastime, shared and individual, of navel-gazing. Us means, us for me.
National defense means, national defense for my security. Except when the national spirit arises in Rallies, breaks free and floats for a brief few hours upon the Padang pitch or around the Kallang-waving stadium, free and infectious, our collective story is forgotten.
And yet it remains, the truth behind our lives… but enough preaching on social realities. This tale is of another reality that was discovered, quite by accident, in a little housing estate in urban Singapore (I know, helpful). And begins with a boy named Choy.