overlap: nature meets art & architecture

I have driven through the lovely campus of Nanyang Technological Institute on many occasions these past few years as Older Daughter has been pursuing her love of the word through Linguistics & Literature.

One of the most beautiful spots on campus is the School of Art Design & Media. I have such an inexplicable urge to roll down the slopes which adorn the building; but as I sadly discovered, not really do-able.

On one of these slopes features Michelangelo Pistoletto’s living art installation. I love it when worlds collide: big excitement.

This post is my contribution to One Word Sunday: Overlap and Six Word Saturday, both hosted by Debbie at TravelWithIntent

little surprising treasures

“Darling, when you run tomorrow morning, see if you can find this?” came this request as he pushed his computer in front of my nose. Peering at his photograph of what looked like a sweet bun nestled among leaves, I looked enquiringly at him as Loving Husband explained that he chanced upon this curiosity, stark against the dark of foliage, made even more interesting in the twilight hour of his run in the Singapore Botanic Gardens. “I want to know what it looks like now” he explained. Continue reading “little surprising treasures”

The Windows

In these dark rooms where I live out empty days,
I wander round and round
trying to find the windows.
It will be a great relief when a window opens.
But the windows aren’t there to be found –
or at least I can’t find them.
Perhaps the light will prove another tyranny.
Who knows what new things it will expose?

“The Windows” by C P Cavafy, 1903

Poem taken from Collected Poems translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard, The Hogarth Press Continue reading “The Windows”

cross at the light

My 21 year old Conscientious Daughter waits at traffic lights and will not cross before the Green Man appears even if there are no cars on the road. I find this very endearing as I will jaywalk in a heartbeat. This behaviour gives her a considerable amount of consternation, especially if I am dragging her along with me.  Much like how I feel when my Flamboyant Father pulls me across a traffic-laden Hanoi road because (he assures me) “the cars and bikes will avoid us”. Continue reading “cross at the light”