the ginger fingers henry miller on the L train from brooklyn into manhattan. i see her traipse over anais nin’s dead body in her seven league gladiator mandals, bang on trend, fashionably late. baby if i could take your star sign between my thighs i would ride the tropic of capricorn uptown to school and be on time to present my sorry little treatise on urban alienation. if a redhead agreed to commute in my mouth, let there be no doubt that i would swallow. the insurance ad behind her head asks: who’s caring for you? she rises to alight at sixth avenue. i care. i am right behind her. red is the smell of her shampoo. stand clear of the closing doors, please. if i stuck my tongue out i might taste the autumn in her auburn. i am careful. i am the gap between the train and the platform. i am the dead time between every delay. i am the tropic between cancer and capricorn. i am the difference between the loose change the busker makes and the sacred premium he places on his craft. i am changing trains, but this is the redhead’s destination. she is walking out of my life with a book under her arm. if i could be that book, i would care for you tonight. i swallow. i swallow hard. if you see any unlawful emotional conduct on public transportation, please notify new york city transit or a police officer. the digital subway display says it is three in the afternoon and it is october. i am hopelessly late. bells are ringing. i am beyond caring. anais says to henry: henry it is october but you taste like june.
— Amanda Lee Koe (x)
— Jack Kerouac
— Simone de Beauvoir, from The Mandarins
""Singapore" is a portrait of living and longing in the city. The tender and lyrical tone used in the series is intended to mask themes of discombobulation and disconnection. Each picture is meant to seem simultaneously naïve and disquieting, so as to reflect the predicament of an adolescent nation torn between her future and the past." - Nguan
— By Joshua Espinoza