apple pie

(because i haven't been documenting my days well enough)

there is so much beauty in movement - it is rush and paced rhythms that keep your heart beating, calmly, palpitating, it is precisely locomotion and dislocation that brings life into being. even stillness is a form of movement. even breathing, simply, breathing, chest rising and falling, blink, breathe, blink.

spent the past 2 days dancing : ) it was a wonderful two days - undeniably tiring, but really fulfilling - the tiredness evaded me throughout the days anyway. combined camp brimmed with different opportunities, learned so many new things from the programme and from interacting with different people! met zifang hahaha the world is too tiny - really thankful for a great ministry mate like her. catched up with the seniors also, and albeit some dread for the future i am really excited to be dancing proper with most of nymd b12 again soon : ) mostly was just really happy to be dancing, with new friends and dancers i love

glad that bei made it for camp also : )))) really hope to be dancing together with her again soon!

there was a segment in which the different schools showcased their own items! really loved some of the items. it is normal that some of the younger girls at camp would feel awkward around seniors that were as much as four/five years older than they are, though it is an insecurity that they eventually have to break out of, but seeing them really enjoying their own dance and being in their element - everyone looks amazing while dancing as long as they do it from their heart.

"you can die for your art - but first, stay alive for your art."

and because movement is a beautiful thing
spent my late afternoon sitting on a damp grass patch, listening to my other favourite form of dance paint pictures in the air above grounds near the old national theatre

these words brought the national theatre, and other old landmarks (telok ayer pac, hotel new world, old railway stations, old loves) alive again. it was ironic, that as we were speaking of demolishment, there was the occasional sound of construction (fort canning mrt being built in the foreground) redevelopment can be a hopeful thing but people are so full of remembrance, of sentiment.

the audience was not of a significant number, but despite the slightly damp slightly irksome slightly uncomfortable ground, flying insects, poor microphones in outdoor environments, threatening overcast skies and the slight drizzle, everyone clung onto the words that spun through the air for the two and half hours or so, fixated on the imaginary cast that played out the stories told (nobody, not even the rain could stop us)

the readings were amazing as always : ) this poem that cyril wong read is stuck in my head

(photos by Alvin Pang)

went for dinner with royanne and peix afterwards, am so so thankful for friends like them - had a good talk over quirky japanese food, peix and i have a habit of ordering the weirdest thing on the menu haha. talked to peix on the way home and decided that city construction, albeit being a messy thing is mandatory - perhaps it is the heightened awareness that mostly affects us. as arthur yap says, there is no future in nostalgia... and certainly no nostalgia in the future of the past

well, that's the thing about movement, and life, i think. it compels you to always see ordinary things with fresh eyes.

while i am sitting on the floor of my sister's room typing this, she is on her bed watching masterchef - an american voice is talking about apple pies like it is the most important thing in the world - now he is scraping the crust of an apple pie, do you hear that? there's not a damp spot / thank you chef and i realize exactly what jie is watching, and i ask, is that the participant who is blind? she replies yes, and i remember i first watched it a little over a year ago when ms teo gathered the upper sec dancers in a classroom for pccg - i just stepped up and she was encouraging us with words firm but kind, believe in yourself, she challenged but didn't say