Littered with Books

Littered with Books at 20 Duxton Road S(089586)

One weekend, G and I stumbled into this gem of a bookshop while wandering about Tanjong Pagar. It was tucked away in one of the many conserved shophouses lined along Duxton Road. The moment I entered the store, I found myself thinking, so rarely do I step into someplace new and feel almost instantly at home. 

Unlike the sprawling labyrinth of large bookstores like Kinokuniya and Page One, Littered with Books is tiny in comparison, but makes up for it by exuding so much warmth that you will feel as if you're browsing from the comfort of your own cozy living room.  Of course, it isn't as well stocked as the other bookstores, but it does boast a pretty extensive collection of titles, ranging from classics, culinary books, crime, contemporary literature, fantasy, sci-fi, to philosophy books. To those who are quick to dismiss the notion of a thriving reading culture in Singapore, or who bemoan the lack of quirky, independently run bookstores,  I say, you haven't been looking closely enough. 

A publication of creative works by Singaporeans

Even the simplest of things like the act of opening up carefully wrapped brown paper packages and thumbing through a newly bought book have the capacity to fill me with so much happiness

Heathers(1989)

always a Saint ^^

And it's just another story caught up in another photograph I found
When I look back on my ordinary, ordinary life
I see so much magic though I missed it at the time 
-Jamie Cullum

Mint Museum of Toys

You said, ' I'm scared'.
And then everything changed.

The old fear surfacing yet again, rising in waves, choking black whirlpools brimming with dread and regret , and you felt lost like a child. It spreads like a slow poison, tainting your every waking moment. Such a burden would too great to bear, it would be nearly incomprehensible (Is it possible to run from the truth forever?) Rising tentatively upwards are the distended cadences of your prayers, as they ascend to meet the indifferent night skies.

Hesitation cuts into my side like a knife, and my thoughts are thrown into disarray, like a flurry of birds’ wings beating soundlessly in the air. I struggle to find something to say, in the hopes of bringing some semblance of comfort. But for once, I find myself faltering. All that comes to mind is ' please. no. no’, an inconsequential refrain, a pointless plea with the God I sometimes don't even believe is there. How foolish- as if my words could somehow dissipate the fear, could reach deep inside of you and still the churning red rivers flowing within the network of veins.

And so, helpless, I can only watch, and wait.

" Out on the street are so many possibilities to not be alone"