Looking at these pictures now, it is a nothing short of a miracle that all of them turned out well.
Because, I can tell you, the photographer was not in one of her best moods when all these pictures were taken.
But it was one those afternoons where she felt Chonkycam had been out of action for far too long, so decided it better to let the lens do what it did best than to not do anything at all.
What's more, the light happened to be exceptionally good, so out from her case she came, onto the balcony she went.
The glowing gold of the weekend's late afternoon sun bathed the Holiday Inn Express building and apartment building opposite with a glorious light so mesmerizing such as I had all these months never seen before.
Contrasted with the sky of pure blue, the clouds of clean cotton white, and the holographic tiles of the Roxy building on my side, it made for one of the most unique canvas of colors one could ever see.
The scenery was surprising.
I had not known the view would turn out looking this way, much less be in such a glorious wash of color to make a pleasant memory.
It wasn't just this side facing Marine Parade Road that was beautiful.
The side facing East Coast Road showed the reflection of clouds and sky on my window, and I decided to leave the screwdriver souvenir at the base of the window there.
Home itself looked lived in; things here, things there, some things placed at odd angles, others seemingly like they had been just dumped at this corner or the other.
But in this house nothing is random.
At least, nothing is permanently random.
We live in a space where aesthetics and color codes are not key, but neither are things chucked at spaces without purpose. No doubt, some parts of the house look like a mess, but step back, look at it with a different eye and you'll realize that in the chaos there exists an order. In the look of mess, there is categorization, and suddenly, everything- whilst not picture perfect, becomes comfortable, assuring, loved.
One of the highlights of our home this season was the addition of a movie documentary postcard on the fridge. ITAM was released in Singapore around May or June this year. The timing of this postcard itself is a marker. Long after we've moved out I'll still have this picture of it up upon the fridge accompanied by a memory of how the rest of the house looked like then.
It was also around this season- May, June- that we discovered it impossible a task to cook in the kitchen. The chef did not like the enclosure of space. He did not like the induction stove being in so near a line of the kitchen bathroom. He did not like the poor ventilation of the space as well.
So back into the box the induction stove went.
In place, out came Little Black Grill and Little Blue Pot- both of which we were not going to use in the kitchen, but in the hall, at the dining table, together with the packets of powders already placed there.
It is 2026.
We have the gear that we don't have to stand inside a dimly-lit kitchen and make our meals.
We have the gear that we don't have to compromise how we want to cook our food.
There is nothing left to compromise.
If vegetables need cleaning and cutting, we'll do them in the hall sitting down.
If sauce and marination is needed, we'll mix them in the hall sitting down.
And if we want to fry those steaks that I call fat fat beef in tallow or whatever oil of choice, we'll spatula it in the hall at the dining table sitting down as well.
No need to stand.
That was the plan.
That is still the plan.
We've done a couple of great blue-plate meals using this method since then, and can I say that the food tastes so much better when the chef is more relaxed and happier?
The rice with frozen minced chicken is seasoned better.
The noodles bubbling away in the pot added with mixed herbs makes for a more relaxed moment of cooking when the chef doesn't have to keep popping into the kitchen to check on it.
And one can just chuck the tang yuan into the pot and leave it to bob about inside there.
It wasn't just the Pot and the Grill that came along to make our lives easier.
The seldom-used balcony also came in incredibly useful.
Not the most flattering nor aesthetic of pictures but, yes, this was the season where I began hanging a couple of T-shirts and trousers there.
What's funny is that I had not thought I would actually figure out a way to hang these garments up by the balcony door, but having skinny hangers and a semi-sheltered space works and the hot sun, plus natural wind coming in all through morning and afternoon has worked wonders for all the random pieces of clothes that I hang up there.
I've since learnt not to keep clothes there for too long, however.
Apparently it blocks the inflow of energies.
Same way too now we have figured out that the best way to keep the space feeling airy and fresh is to open the balcony door when we go out and let the air in. Never mind if there is tropical heat and tropical sunshine. Never mind if there may be rains or winds in the afternoon. The door stays open whenever we're not around.
At least we come back to a house of flowy energy, not a space of stagnated energy.
Of course, not everything we've changed.
There are some things that are still the same.
Like my desk, which, by the looks of it, hasn't changed much, save for an additional black bag on the right side which I thought was always there, and the bottle of lavender scented SkinCalories face mist that has since shifted down.
Other than that, nothing else has changed.
The decor box of pink plastic flowers and the bottle of lavender essential oil spray we place right by the door behind the TV still remain there together with the bottle of cologne.
And we still have a whole lot of coffee and tea at the place in the kitchen where we put our coffee and tea.
