You know, it is remarkably appropriate that I should have been here on the upper floors of the National Library Building during the afternoon on the day when I, over the phone, narrated to Someone events that had happened on that very same day, in another place, at another time.
I hadn't planned to be here.
But the bus that we took from Upper Thomson Road came to this area, and so me and my friend, we got down.
I'm glad we did.
Because this place- the Library- and her surroundings- were, in more ways than one, significant to the person I shall henceforth address as Mr. Radioman.
That being said, the Library that Mr. Radioman remembers most isn't this one here- it's too new- but he would have been familiar with the one that used to stand at the foot of Fort Canning close to Armenian Street along Stamford Road.
That was the one with an S11 food court in front.
That was the one with the red bricks and grey painted walls that you entered by accessing a long flight of stairs.
Whether or not Mr. Radioman went to that library often, I don't know, but there was a season when he would head there on Friday evenings with worksheets and exercise book in hand for Chinese spelling with his child. Sometimes the spelling was difficult. Other times it wasn't. And if they finished early, Mr. Radioman would get a vanilla ice cream cone from the McDonalds at the YMCA next door.
Perhaps this (new) library doesn't mean as much to Mr. Radioman as it did the old one, but the surroundings of this location certainly are of significance to him as well.
Like the building at the far end of Middle Road along Selegie that he once said had structures on its roof manufactured, and installed by his father's company.
At the far end of Middle Road on Selegie is a building that he once said had structures that were manufactured, and installed by his father's company.
It was something he was, and still is, very proud of.
Another place that he has memories of lies not too far from this particular building.
This was a place where he'd come every weekend, attend weekly sessions, and go for annual camps.
It was a place where he had friends, companionship and interaction beyond his home, his family and his work.
It was a very hopeful time.
I don't know now if those memories are as fond as others hope they would be, but they're there.
And they won't be erased away.
Mr. Radioman has plenty of stories about his time at this place.
But he has even more stories about his time at the Suntec City/Marina Bay area, where, at a certain point in his life, he found a purpose worth waking up at 6am on a Sunday for.
Never in his life (save for work) had he woken up this early, and so eagerly on a Sunday morning.
But this purpose spoke deeply to his spirit, and to his soul.
He found himself feeling more enthusiastic about life, about his relationships, and what else life had to offer.
He also grew to appreciate the charms of Suntec City, the waters of Marina Bay, and everything else that was in the world out there.
It will be some time before he tells me again of his occasional night-time sojourns to Serangoon Road and Mustafa.
It will also be some time before he tells me of the bus trips he took upcountry, of the really delicious rojak at the hawker center near the bus depot, the nice places he'd been to, and the nice foods he'd had.
For now, however, there're all the libraries, we'll share out the youtiao, and there's always the d*** solid bus interchange kopi too.