A letter

If a mark moved you to reply, write me a letter by email kindly. I read slowly on weekend mornings and on quiet weeknights in Singapore.

I keep this page free of contact fields on purpose — a handwritten tone travels better through mailto than through a database I would neglect.

Welcome notes include a Serangoon memory, a factual fix, or a question about one mark. I like specifics over slogans.

Avoid identity numbers, bank details, or names of other people in email. Messages travel without encryption. See /privacy.php for letter filing.

Personal blog only. Opinions here are mine; marks are not professional counsel of any kind.

Email
[email protected]

Phone
+65 6749 3815

Post
Blk 234 Serangoon Avenue 2, #08-19, Singapore 550234

Hours
weekend mornings and quiet weeknights, SGT

Tea cooling marks natural edit deadlines in this flat more than clocks do on quiet weeknights.

Upper Serangoon buses sigh at stops like whales surfacing for one breath before moving on.

Reading lamp bulbs are hoarded in a tin because hardware shops forget warm tones I prefer.

Wall plates list marks the way dock hands list crates without ranking their inner weight.

Letter pages invite taps on wood gates not databases storing your keystrokes overnight.

Serangoon Avenue benches face the garden as if auditioning for a calendar nobody prints anymore.

Canal paths under Lorong Chuan carry bottle caps from decades ago without origin stories attached.

Ferry horns from the distance reach my flat when windows align with the wind direction.

Hawker stairs teach knees humility before breakfast arrives steaming on plastic trays.

Platform quiet between trains feels like held breath before a sentence ends on the page.

Grandfather lamp warms the paperback fold more than central air ever could in this flat.

West dusk paints blocks mauve for eleven minutes if clouds cooperate generously over Serangoon.

Mark drafts start as voice memos deleted after transcription to protect passerby voices nearby.