“In any weather, at any hour of the day or night, I have been anxious to improve the nick of time, and notch it on my stick too; to stand on the meeting of two eternities, the past and future, which is precisely the present moment; to toe that line.” Henry David Thoreau, Walden
Anticipating that the sun sets in Singapore at seven, I grabbed a croissant and a curry puff from 7-11 before walking to the Marina Bay observation deck. The time reads 5.30pm.
It is a curious thing to me on how the day turns into night, and night into day. When the situation permits, I focus on the different hues in the sky during dawn and dusk, in attempt to catch the moment when light enters and leaves the atmosphere. But I never succeed. I often wonder if math could pinpoint the exact time or moment when it takes place, for what is gradual is often lost on me and only could be acknowledge retrospectively.
Perhaps this is nature’s way of saying that all changes are gradual, and I am reminded of a quote by Lao Tzu who said: “Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” I admit that I was never fascinated by nature as a child, but as I grow older, I feel compelled to think that nature is perhaps the most underrated and unappreciated teacher to man. One can learn so much more from the observation of nature than in literature. Thus it seems only appropriate that I am never ceased to be amazed by the simplicity of nature which mask its brilliant intricacies.
So there I was, up in the observation deck, waiting for the night to beckon. I took pictures, marvelled at the sight of what this small country had achieved, rejected the tower photographer’s offer to get my picture taken and contemplated on the assortment of souvenirs, before settling down upon a flight of stairs, observing the skies above for the last daylight to withdraw.
Then, a tap on my right shoulder.