Wednesday, 4 May 2011

Time will be your ghost,

Home.

They say home is like life's rehearsal, like the dressing room where you and your trusty headband hide far far away from the crowds during those bad days or put your feet on the coffee table with no one judging you, Au natural.

Decided to take a trip down nostalgia avenue to my humble ex-residence, which has been slated to be demolished since 2008 for an educational hub in place and when Karen used to joke how my house was a bog and how she and the girls would one day help to bulldoze it all down. Indeed, home's the place where you grow up wanting to leave so eagerly but yearn to get back to when you get older. Ain't no pictures of a grand house with a perfect cow grass lawn but definitely fond memories of 10 cent ice popsicles and Marco Polo on swinging bridges. Not forgetting the sand islands where we used to dig in hope of discovering another world at the other end, only to go home with chipped nails and sand scrubbed feet and of course, hoarse voices from singing BINGO at an intolerant amplitude.

Then, I grew up and it became a place of retreat and solitude in the early mornings (if I managed to ruffle out of bed) for some quiet time or with Cathy who probably felt like such a luxury to take in the surroundings from a bird's eye view. Or during those coy moments where I had a certain someone to share this place with, along with our hopes and dreams.

(Albeit most of the photographs are taken by my broken Canon Ixus, you can compare the quality of it with my other upcoming posts taken by the on-loan DSLR though)

The famous (or not so famous) Pelican playground set featured in the neighbourhood nostalgia exhibit a couple of months back @Esplanade, they now sell these icons as brooches at the Esplanade mall.

I could almost swear this was the same cat that chased me up 6 floors way back in 2006.

Haunting. Yet meek.

Accidental overexposure.

Played around with the double exposure too

I love how we managed to discover manual film, such a gem amidst all these techno devices!

Love how the black and white grainy film captures the apt moments, giving it a very rustic feel. (Seems more likely to be the expired film effect though)
Walking down the streets was so surreal, like a dream of an abandoned ghost town with the classic plastic bag flying across the road or an empty void of the place I spent 18 years of my life in.
Felt as if a headless zombie were to linger by and spring up on us any minute, I obviously watch too many zombie flicks.