Basking in the fading sunlight, I can hear the chirping of birds in the distant. The surface of the slow moving water was calm, broken occasionally by its slithery inhabitants underneath. The herons that have taken the banks of the river as their home, enjoy a break from their hunt. The cool evening breeze seems to lift my spirits ever higher as the night slowly descends upon the land.
A possible modern scene from the Bridges of Madison County? I am afraid not. I am still bound in our land. It is just Seng Kang in Singapore, where one of the tributaries of the river lie. I suppose in a couple of years this place will be changed forever, with both sides of its banks flanked by towering residential housing. For now, it is still quiet, and a place where people fish.
“Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.” – Langston Hughes
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