more films part II // fujifilm

 

Ever since Seanny bought me my first disposable camera (which was a Fujifilm), I haven't went back to it for a long time. I've been using the Kodak disposable camera instead simply because the Kodak offers 39 shots, whereas the Fujifilm only offers about 27. And when you're a broke student like me, you would want to get your money's worth. Even more so when both cameras are about the same price (~$20) where I'm at. It just made more sense to use the Kodak for me, and the Kodak had colours that I personally prefer after seeing my sister use it the first time. 

But's been two, maybe three years since he bought me the Fujifilm camera and I wanted to give it another shot. Mainly because I know a lot of people who prefer the Fujifilm disposable's colours, and there were many Japanese photographers who stood by it. So I went into my neighbourhood printing shop and asked if they had any. They said no, but they could order it for me if I wanted. So I said ok, let's do that. 

Ergonomically, the Fujifilm is way better. Let's get that right. The Kodak disposable requires you to hold onto a button for a long time before your flash is available, and there have been many times where my flash did not go off despite me holding onto the button for a long time. The Fujifilm, on the other hand, is a matter of a flick of a switch. Just slide the button up, and your flash is available instantly, and it goes off 10 out of 10 times. The Fujifilm is also slimmer, and smaller as compared to the Kodak, which allows me to put it in my pocket with ease. 

Colour wise, it's kinda hit or miss for me. There are times when it just gives me 100% what I've been searching for all this while, the green tint. But other times, it gives me too much orange tint in the photos, which I don't particularly like, but I don't hate it either. I think if the orange was toned down a little, I would have loved it. Of course, I can easily fix it in Lightroom, but I don't usually tweak my film photos because, 1. I'm lazy and 2. I want to see the film colours for what they are. 

Personally, I don't think the Fujifilm camera is one I would use in the sunlight. The colours it produces when used with the flash just outperforms by so much. But the same can be said with the Kodak camera. I think the flash what gives the disposable cameras that aesthetic of theirs. 

Would I get the Fujifilm camera again? For sure, simply for the ergonomics and that green tint. But economics wise, it would be more cost-effective if I stuck with the Kodak. So I'll leave the Fujifilm for days when I'm feeling richer. 

Enjoy the Fujifilm aesthetics. 

time capsule with shan

waiter oppa

caught between 2 oppas

Edgar / dragonball 

Neo Guan and Randell in the midst of our game

gothic Xuan 

Michelle at a retro cafe

candid?

potted plants and a strawberry

more films // kodak disposable

Hello, 

It's been long. Almost a year. Covid happened, along many other things. I was distracted by this and that, pulled back into the whirlwind known as school, worked a lot of part time, and without knowing, a year has passed. 

I am back, with yet another post about the beauty of film, because film is something that I hold dear. I made a mistake a couple of months back, and ended up with three disposable cameras to use. So over the past few months, I'd been slowly taking photos on my disposables. As my photos were spread out between the different cameras, it took me ages before I finished the first one. But there was some good that came from that, it acted as a restraint for me, so I could not rush to develop any films. Instead, I was forced to wait out till all three were done, before developing them altogether. The longer you wait, the more likely you are to forget whatever that you've taken. And the more likely you are to be surprised when you develop your photos. 

I'm just going to upload the ones from my Kodak disposables for this post. I only picked out a few because there is no way I'm going to flood the post with 58 photos. I'll post the photos from the Fujifilm disposable in the next post... Probably. Cheers.

beach day with Arica

somewhere in bedok

I love mango desserts

shake it shake it

valentines this year at The Masses

k-bbq with the bois 

shan / me / max

og 3rd gen chug crew

justseannyboy

demon slayer tees

seanny & charmy

shan's xmas tree

steamboat with the army bois

stacked up plates of meat

missing our bois Jordy and Harvest

biddy and her birthday gifts

Grief

“I eat a grief sandwich

I wear a grief coat

I watch a grief film.” - Lorde

If you have been through grief, then you know that when you are grieving, you live and breathe grief. Some people find it easier to move on from grief, and some a little harder. The feeling of having a hand gripped around your heart, squeezing it so tightly, you cannot breathe. A pain so sharp, yet the sounds never leave your mouth. Like a well that has been abandoned, your eyes too, are all dried up. 

You put on a plastic smile, and you trudge on with life because that is expected of you. Society does not wait, it will not give you a year to grieve and move on. So you force yourself to swallow the sandwich, to laugh and mingle with friends, to continue with life as if nothing had happened. When they do ask you, “are you okay?”, you lie and say “yeah, of course”. 

The world is unforgiving when you are grieving. But that does not mean that you are not allowed to. Take all the time you need to grieve. Watch those grief films, listen to your grieving playlist. Find people who you can say “I’m not okay”, and they’ll be okay with it. Laugh, then cry, then laugh again. Because sometimes, the best cure is to keep laughing. 

Some wounds never heal, some people never stop grieving. And that’s okay. Some days feel worse than others, but there are days that hurt lesser. Days where we forget about the grief even. But grief is like a ghost, it haunts us over and over. If there’s anything I’ve learnt with grief, it’s that one day it does get better. Not in the sense that we stop grieving, but in a way that we can live as we grieve. And perhaps, that’s the best we can do. Because this grief is our last connection to the person we love and lost.

S.

An Ode to Friends

I feel like I write about friends a lot, but as an introvert, I find it really difficult to make friends to begin with. But also, I made a promise to myself in 2016 that I would never neglect friends for any relationship ever again. Hopefully, I'm doing that well enough right now. So, in a way, I've been learning to treasure the friends that I hold dear to my heart to the best of my abilities. 

There have been many friends in my life, and it is impossible for me to touch on each and everyone of you. But, all of you have impacted my life in one way or another. Clearly, this was meant to be an end-of-2019 post, but that did not happen, so it's here 5 months late. 
I think I'm a really hard to approach person in general, so thank you to all of you who have made the first move to get to know me, and to be my friend.

2019 has been a year of friends for me. Catching up with my primary school friend, Melvin Lim. I also met up with Priscilla and Justin (though that was more end of 2018). Lots of quality time spent with my secondary school mates too, even going to JB with them. Hung out a bit with my poly peeps before my best friend Randell flew off to UK for further studies. Hung out with my army bois when Jordy came back from Australia. Made more new (but close and precious) friends at Chug like Max, Seannyboi, & Shannon. Went to university expecting to not make a single friend, but I made 2 really good friends (or VSCO girls), Bidhya and Lae, who are so so sweet. Became really good friends with Michelle after doing 3 or 4 shoots together, and we have since kept making amazing photos together. Xuening entrusting me with most of her shoots (almost felt like an exclusive contract), and even her maternity shoot. Rachel who got me a few paid photography jobs here and there. Megan who I went to the Epik High concert with. Naomi, my matcha buddy, who also gave me one of my craziest opportunities in 2019, which was shooting over 10 models in a day. Ariffin and Rosanne who often complained about linguistics with me. Sufyan who always geeks out with me.

Also made a friend called Arica over break-up conversations, who quickly became my girlfriend but that's for another day.

And of course, there are so much more. The friends I made through Instagram and from shoots, the customers who became friends from Chug. The full-timers at Populus who are so so nice to me.

So this one is to all of the friends in my life. Both old ones and new ones. 

Acquired Tastes - Coffee

As humans, we naturally crave sweeter or sometimes saltier food. Our love for ice cream, cakes, potatoes in every form, and fried chicken. The list goes on. Perhaps this craving comes from our body in the most biological way - that we are low on sugar or salt, and require some, lest we stop functioning. Perhaps it is entirely coincidental that we love the taste of these foods. Maybe we evolved as a species to have our taste buds wired like this.

But there are many things that we don't like having in our mouths growing up. In particular, the bitter things. And among the bitter foods that are available to us, coffee stands out. Even as we continue to hate on bitter gourds and Chinese medicine, humans do seem to enjoy the bitterness of coffee. With some avid coffee lovers scowling at those who add sugar into their coffee. 

And yet, nobody loves coffee as soon as they can start tasting. Coffee is an acquired taste. It takes a few tries to get into it. One's virgin coffee experience is often faced with an expression of disdain, followed by a "what the hell is that?" For some, they hate it after that first mouth. But after a few years, they taste it again with a skeptical mindset, and fall in love with it. Others, resort to coffee because of the need to stay awake in lectures, or for the sake of staying up till 6am to finish an assignment. And after having coffees for a month straight, cognitive dissonance occurs and they fall in love with it. 

For me? I only started drinking coffee after I met Arica, and after starting work at Populus. While Arica would bring me to various cafes to drink coffee, it wasn't enough to get me hooked. I get a free drink each shift while I'm working, so you can imagine the amount of mochas and lattes I've had. After drinking the coffee there for a few months, I started to feel a difference in my taste buds. Every so often, I'd go to a cafe with Arica or Max and we'd have a coffee. And I find myself lost in my thoughts, I'd be thinking "huh, this doesn't taste as good." But, I don't know what's good. Before, I would have just found all coffee bad in general. Then, it hit me. I'd grown so used to the beans at Populus and how they do their coffee, that I'd taken a liking to that specific taste. It could very well be dissonance in this case, or unconsciously, I've learnt to appreciate it. 

The coffee at Populus has become my benchmark now. And you'll always hear me complaining when I drink coffee from elsewhere. I'd be telling Arica, "I still think Populus is better", I shit you not. 

I don't have proper photos of coffee, because most of the time, I'm drinking it at work. And I just wanna also say, thank you to all the baristas at Populus for always giving me free coffees, I mad appreciate it. Especially Dada and Canon because they're usually the ones making for me when I go down for free coffee after school or when I'm studying. 

A Date in the 70s / Portra 160

Before there was my digital camera - the Nikon D5500, the first camera I held with my 5-year old hands was my dad's camera - the Nikon FM2. A fully manual film camera. Before I knew what rule of thirds was, what exposure meant, and what focusing was, my dad would ensure the settings were right before placing it in my hands to let me take the family portraits. I enjoyed holding a camera more than I enjoyed being in front of one.

Every time I hold the FM2 now, there is some sort of magic that I feel. As I focus and take the shot, I am reminded of the thousand of times my dad did before me. How he brought this camera out in the 80s through the 90s with him onto the streets, taking portraits of my mum, and doing street photography. The grooves of the camera still holds onto the warmth of my dad's hands. It remembers the sweat, the effort, and maybe even the tears, as he struggled to be a full-time photographer. The scoldings he had to endure from celebrities, from his bosses. The chores he had to do as an assistant - buying coffee, buying food, holding equipment. The camera must hold some sadness, of how my dad had to put down the camera, and his lifelong passion, in exchange for stability, for the sake of starting a family. It must remember how when it broke down, my dad refused to let it go. Instead, he took it for repairs, and spent more than he should. He was advised to buy a new one instead of fixing it, told that it was not worth repairing. But my dad chose to ignore all that, he valued sentiment. 

As I open the canister of the Portra 160, and start loading the film into the camera, I am reminded of the history of this camera. This shoot is personal to me, in the sense that it is my first portrait shoot on film. It is something I have wanted to do for years. And the Portra 160 was the sensible choice, a film designed for portraits with slightly warmer tones that lended itself perfectly for skin tones. When I first held the FM2 again back in 2015, I knew I was not ready to do serious things with this camera. All I could do was waste my film as I practiced. Eventually, I had to put it down. Went back to digital in order to improve my craft, to improve my portraits.    

This shoot with Michelle came at the right time. It was originally meant for an assignment, and it was cancelled, but I decided to go ahead with the shoot anyway. I had been growing tired of digital work, and tired of how all of my portraits were getting stale. I realised it was time to slow down the process, and do a concept that meant something to me. I also knew, that I had grown plenty as a portrait photographer and that I was ready to do a full portrait shoot on film. 

Michelle volunteered for this project, and the idea I had in mind was a "date" in the 70s / 80s. Film has always been magical to me. When I hold the FM2, there is this feeling - that I am transported back in time, that I am reliving my dad's love for the camera, for photography. And I wanted to channel that into a shoot. To time travel through these photographs, and imagine what it was like to be my dad, to be on a photography "date" with a girl. 

Michelle donned on her mother's dress, perfecting the look of a girl in the 70s who was on a date. I have worked with Michelle many times, and we have become very good friends through the shoots and the planning of said shoots. Yet this shoot felt different. There was no warm-up shots, no racking of brains, no complicated poses. Yes, this shoot was a lot more natural. Just us, walking around Haji Lane, looking through the shops and suggesting to each other which spot to take the photo at. No elaborate poses, just a simple smile, or simply looking through some products. 

Film slows me down, it slows the entire process down. There is no screen to check the photos, there is no redoing of any shots. Yet there is something so therapeutic about the process. I was not worried about the photos, I was simply walking around and enjoying the process. Perhaps that is the magic of film. When I am on film, the results do not matter, there is nothing that I am chasing. I was in the moment with Michelle, having little conversations, and big laughters. 

I romanticise film too much, you might say. I romanticise the nostalgia and the colours of it. Maybe the magic that I romanticise is that I feel like I'm connecting with my dad's youth through this medium. I feel his regrets, and his love as I turn each dial. I wonder with each shot, how his life would be different if he did not put down the camera. He gave up on his dreams so that I could chase mine. I load each film and think, how courageous he must be, how much regrets he must have, as he did a job that he did not love. I often think about the day I bought my own camera, how his eyes beamed with pride. As if to say, you are indeed my son, to love photography as much as I do. 

I often wonder, if I too, would have to give up my dreams for stability? I would love it if his sacrifices were not wasted, and I could do what he never could. To be a full time photographer, to earn a stable income while doing the photography I love. But the future is never certain, and we would never know.

In the meantime, enjoy the photos. 

The Death of Photography

About half a year ago, I remember having this conversation with my friend Natalia (who also does both psychology and photography), about how the photography hype has been dying down. Most of the photographers I met during insta-meets in Singapore have stopped shooting, in fact some feel like they've quit altogether. At first, I thought I was the only person who felt that way when my Instagram feed got more and more sparse. I was only seeing daily posts from a few friends. Then Yihong told me that he shared the same view, that most photographers he knew had already put down the camera. 

This topic naturally came up because she too had noticed that there were a lot of photographers that she'd met in Singapore who stopped posting. It wasn't just Singapore that was facing this sudden decline in hype, it was all over the world. 

To be honest, we both felt that it's a good thing. With the photography hype that boomed in 2014, a lot of photography trends started popping up too. While some helped to shape our creativity, these trends served as a mould that caged most of the photographers who jumped on the bandwagon. 

From the Brandon Woelfel fairy lights trend, to the typical architecture shots, and then the f/1.8 portraits where background or concepts did not matter. Not forgetting the lace cloths, laundromats, minimalism, the leaf covering the face, the arcade, the reflection, the prism, the bathtub, the diner, the rooftops, and more fairy lights. And when these people wanted to "get out of their comfort zone", they would thrift a cheap film camera and take some shitty street shots, and claimed it to be street photography. They really did Henri-Cartier Bresson dirty. 

It came to a point where everything seemed to be exhausted, every photo that you saw was one of the above. There was no longer any creativity in modern day photography. When asked for a concept, photographers threw out an option from above and expected it to be called a concept. There was no mood, no story behind the photographs. That said, a single reference photo cannot be considered a concept too, just wanted to put it out there. 

Don't get me wrong, when I was starting out, I did my fair share of these. But I realised that this was not the photography I wanted to pursue, I wanted photographs that would make people feel something, that would tell a story. Probably because of the photojournalist in me. 

But after all these trends were used, everyone got bored and sick of seeing them. Even the photographers themselves. None of these photographers tried to improve their craft, or hone their creativity. They only saw what was on Instagram, and limited their visions to just that. Even when the world had so much more to offer, from Henri-Cartier Bresson (the Grandfather of street photography) to the different magazines (e.g. Kinfolk), to Hamada Hideaki, to Nguan (Singapore's best street photographer). 

But I don't blame them. They were only using photography to try and chase fame (and for some, girls). Seriously, the amount of photographers that tried to touch their models under the premise of a shoot was so damn high. But that's another topic for another day. When no new trends could be found, and when they got sick of their own work because they were just shooting the same thing over and over and pasting the same edits on every photo, they finally quit. 

The ones who truly enjoyed photography, sought inspirations from outside of Instagram. Some searched for Japanese photographers who had developed the "everyday life" style. Some followed the Koreans who made boudoir their own. There were those who did concepts one could never have imagined before. 

So me and Natalia had this discussion, that the sudden death in the photography scene was for the better. Without the trends that plagued the photography scene, photographers could challenge themselves and come up with original concepts and we could hear the stories about how these concepts were birthed. 

Another reason, was that all these "fake" photographers, for the sake of exposure, would do free shoots for companies, or events that were not supposed to be free. This made it hard for the actual photographers who were making a living out of this. Nat has a ton of stories for this where she educates "influencers" who think they should have free shoots. But with all the fakes gone, companies have no choice but to pay the photographers for their shoots. 

In fact, I've benefited from it as well. Thanks to my friend Rachel, two paid jobs came my way. And thanks to Rouying, a musician also approached me to help him take photos for his Spotify and whatnot. All of which, can be viewed on my Instagram. 

Side note, but Nat is also the one who made me realise how much I was worth as a photographer. She's the reason why I was confident enough to charge a high rate. To quote her, "if you want me, pay me". If they approach you, it means they value your work, so don't be afraid to give them a high rate. Of course, Michelle has often told me that if somebody asks to work with me, then it means they like my style, but I never equated that with paid jobs. When money is involved, it gets a bit pressurising because I may do a bad job and my reputation may go down. But Nat made me realise that it was all the same, and that I was good enough to be paid the rate I choose to offer. 

So yes, the photography scene has died down by a lot in Singapore. So much so, that the number of friends that I know that are still shooting constantly can be counted with two hands. But it's not a bad thing, because now, more than ever, we can see original works. More inspiring photographs. 

On that note, let me give you a few photographers (who are also my friends) that are worth following. Just click the names to bring yourself to their Instagrams:

@natalianaa 
First on the list is of course, Natalia. She's taught me so much over the course of the two years plus that I've known her. She's the photographer I would definitely want for my wedding, without a doubt. She does an amazing job with boudoir, so if you're in Melbourne and want to try boudoir, she's your go to photographer. 

@jst.elvin
Next up is Elvin. He's the guy that makes Singapore look nothing like Singapore. The j in jst stands for Japanese, because he really makes Singapore look like Japan. His edits have improved so much since I first met him, and it's insane. 

@chenhan_photography
Chenhan is like a teacher to me when it comes to photography. He taught me how to find the best angles for models, and even gave some technical tips when it comes to achieving film-like looks. He's really the guy that has mastered film-edits, you won't be able to differentiate what is digital and what is film on his feed. 

@dillon_photogs
Dillon's a real bro in the industry. He does really unconventional editorial photos, whether it's the props he use, or the posing. I really love his Lepak series, which you can see on his Instagram, because it really captures the Singapore lepak spirit. He even adds his own words to the photos, making them look like they're actual magazines when they're not.  

Last Call

So, if you read "The Knife and Her", you know that I didn't submit that for my creative writing - fiction assignment. I had to redo the whole thing, because my prof felt that there wasn't enough character development. That a minimum of two characters is needed so they can interact and there will be development. To be honest, I was following the whole Murakami style of writing, where it was more lyrical, and mysterious. 

So "Last Call" is the product of me rewriting the whole thing. A simple love triangle story, which I knew he would like because it's "classical fiction". Shout out to Seannyboi for providing me with the necessary information I needed for my character's development. 

It's set in a fictional Singapore by the way. You'll notice I've upgraded Haw Par Villa like mad in this piece of work, but that's because I really love that place and what it was when it first opened.

////

        Five years ago in Melbourne, I met Cheryl at a cafe where she worked part-time. Like me, she was Singaporean. Unlike me, she was doing her degree there. I was on a solo trip to rediscover myself after a break up. 

I was the only customer, so Cheryl sat at my table and struck up a conversation with me. With our common ground being Singapore, and film photography, we hit it off. She offered to be my tour guide. I had five days left on my trip, and she didn’t have any work scheduled. 

“I know a few cute places that websites and blogs don’t know about.” 

She convinced me with just one line. Though I think I would have agreed even if she brought me to tourist spots. 

I met Cheryl the next day at the tram station of Rose street. She arrived early, and was sitting on the bench, reading a book. She was wearing a plain white tee that was tucked into a pair of mum’s jeans. Her round spectacles were a little too big, yet it complemented her face. It was such a simple outfit, but I was awed at how pretty she looked in it.

The streets were lined with cafes and bars. The air carried the aroma of different coffee beans. Behind the tram station, one cafe specialised in eggs, and next to it was a cafe specialising in sandwiches. There were no two cafes specialising in the same thing. A bazaar featuring handcrafted products was being held at one corner too. Cheryl was right. It was a cute place.

She’d brought her film camera like promised. A Canon Autoboy Quartz. I always wanted one of those. The whole day consisted of us visiting one cafe to another, and taking photos of the scenery and each other. 

“There’s still so many places I wish to bring you!” She’d said at the end of the day.

She convinced me with just one line once again. So we decided to spend the next four days together.

I shouldn’t be thinking of Cheryl. I had a girlfriend now. All the photos from that trip were developed and kept in an album hidden in my wardrobe. Time to time, I would take them out to reminisce. Those five days felt special. In fact, Cheryl felt special. If it wasn’t for the distance, I was sure we would have dated. 

My phone lit up. A notification —

[Hey Chris, I’m back in Singapore. Let’s catch up for old time’s sake! You can be my tour guide this time.] 

I pondered over the text for a long time. 

What would I say to my girlfriend? Cheryl’s just a friend. Our lips may have tasted more than just the other’s, but there’s nothing to worry about! Hours of argument would ensue, I was sure of it. The right thing to do was to turn Cheryl down. 

But I wanted to see her. She’d been at the back of my mind all this time. For the past five years, I constantly thought about the what if. What if we had dated? Would I be much happier now? 

I needed a closure. It wasn’t fair to my partner if I was constantly thinking and yearning another. So I agreed to meet Cheryl that Saturday, without telling my partner.

//

Standing in front of the iconic red-waves patterned walls, Cheryl was in her signature look — a white tee shirt tucked inside a pair of mum’s jeans. Her hair was tied in a pony tail, her fringe framed her face, covering just her eyebrows. Hanging from her neck was a different film camera. A Nikon F3. 

I had no idea why she wanted to come to Haw Par Villa. It’s the very essence of Singapore, she’d told me, plus it got renovated recently right? 

In an effort to regain their old popularity of the 1960s, they made it into an amusement park. Haw Par Villa incorporated Chinese myths and folk tales. The “Ten Gates of Hell” for example used to be a cave exhibiting the different tortures used in Hell. Now, it was a gondola ride. One would literally be cruising through Hell. 

Maybe going to Hell made sense after all, given what I was doing. 

We sat down inside the gondola, a lady dressed in a traditional Chinese gown stood at the helm. As we cruised through Hell, the sound of hundreds screaming from the tortures could be heard. Our thighs were pressed against each other, and every time the boat rocked, I would feel the familiar warmth of her body and we would both awkwardly apologise. I could feel my cheeks getting hotter, and it wasn’t because of the ride. I would be joining those who were screaming if my girlfriend saw us right now. 

We started avoiding the other’s gaze after we stepped out of the gondola ride. Maybe it wasn’t just me who was recalling Melbourne. On my last night in Melbourne, Cheryl came over for a drink. At the peak of our intoxication, we found ourselves making out. A few more glasses of gin, and all of our clothes were on my bedroom floor. 

“So what’s going on in your life these days?” She asked, snapping me out of my nostalgia. My face felt hot as I looked at Cheryl. The scent of her body still fresh in my mind. 

“Erm. M-my job sucks. That’s one.” I managed. 

“Then quit. You can do photography, you always loved it.” 

Cheryl sounded nonchalant as ever. I always admired that about her. She lived her life in such a carefree manner. I lived mine with too much caution. When I was with her, I felt a little more carefree. Don’t think so much, she had said to me in Melbourne, you should follow your feelings a little more.

“It’s not that easy. Living in Singapore is a lot of money,” I told her, “besides, my girlfriend disapproves of that.”

“You’ll figure something out,” she said, “tell me about your girlfriend.”  

“There’s not much to talk about.”

“You don’t sound very excited about her.”

“I suppose I’m not.”

“Mind telling me why?”

“Lots of arguments. She can pick a fight about anything.”

“Why don’t you end it then?”

“I’m not sure.”

Cheryl’s words kept replaying in my mind. My parents loved my girlfriend. They wanted her as their daughter-in-law. That was the biggest reason as to why I had yet to end this relationship. I didn’t want to let my parents down again. 

“Why don’t we ride the roller coaster?” She said.

With the staff securing our seatbelts, I could see from the corner of my eye that Cheryl was nervous. 

“Hey, can I hold onto your hand?” She asked, her eyes fixated on the tracks.  

“S-sorry?”

“I’m still scared of heights.” 

I couldn’t bear to turn her down, so I stretched out my hand. 

Does this count as cheating? But any friend would do the same, I reasoned. 

As the roller coaster began the climb, Cheryl’s grip tightened. I was terrified of heights myself. My girlfriend never liked that about me. It wasn’t manly, she would say, a man should be fearless.

Once we took a dive, Cheryl screamed at the top of her lungs. She looked ecstatic even when she was so afraid. I think I was staring at her. She paused to take a breath, and glanced over. She mouthed the words just scream before letting her voice echo throughout Haw Par Villa . 

I took a deep breath. Using all the strength in me, I let out the loudest scream I could muster, “ARGHHHHHHHHH!” My voice cracked. I hadn’t screamed before. Cheryl burst out laughing, but I could tell she wasn’t making fun of me. It was the kind of laughter where I knew she was having fun. I started laughing too. We must have seemed crazy. We laughed, screamed, and laughed again. 

This feels nice, I thought, it’s like Melbourne again. We would laugh at every little thing, and our stomachs would cramp up from laughing. I really missed that. I really missed Cheryl. 

To end off the tour, we decided to eat at the in-house restaurant of Haw Par Villa. It was one of a kind. A Chinese restaurant with decorations from their myths. At the entrance stood the statues  of the ox-headed and horse-faced guards of Hell. 

A waitress in a cheongsam took our order. Cheryl got the braised pork rice, while I went with a simple stir fried noodles. As we waited for our food, my phone buzzed.

[Where are you?]

“Is that your girlfriend?” 

I should have answered her with ease, but the words could not come out. It was obvious that I was ignoring the text message. Cheryl already knew I had a girlfriend, so why couldn’t I answer her? 

“Do you love her?” She asked. 

I could not answer. 

My phone started vibrating. It was her. I picked up the device and stared at the screen for a good minute. In that minute, different thoughts flooded my mind. She was going to ask who I was out with. There was no way I could explain anything to her in a way she would accept. 

Did I ever love her?

I slid the button towards ‘reject call’, and placed my phone face-down on the table. I had an answer, I always did. I was waiting for Cheryl this whole time. It was time I took Cheryl’s advice. Maybe it was time I followed my feelings, and be a little more carefree.

I stretched my hand out towards Cheryl, like I did on the roller coaster, and she took it without hesitation.