A short note amidst seasonal respite.
Taken from c. 1° 17′ 0″ N, 103° 50′ 0″ E, facing S X SW
There are some islands that I can not find on the map. I am unsure as to who they belong to; Singapore or Indonesia. I can see them and yet I can not find them. They are there, but they cease to exist when I take them seriously. To find them, would be to locate them apropos my own positionality. It is not so much of a problem that I can not geographically measure them, but it really is proving an issue of contention.
As I sit at the outpost, awaiting my leave to recover me, or rather, as I wait to return home, I can not help but be utterly perplexed by this city, this island, this country. Singapore, in my head is a halfway house, not in terms of social reintegration, sobriety or recovery, but it bridges two very different, rather sickeningly different, starkly and shockingly different ‘worlds’ – worlds / ways – one of fiscal elitism, technocratic progression, architectural astronomy, trading wizardry, so on and so forth (think a sort of Existential Saadiyat Island, if that is at all possible?) and one of the past – a past composed of the past before it, a world whose poeticism is deeply buried in Kipling and Stamford Raffles. It is a state of exception, not in the way of Carl Schmitt, it is not a sovereign state but if we’re talking politics, then a state of parliamentary republic. However, it is a state of exception, because it is an anomaly – as things go, it is deregulated, though in practice is is most regulated. What I want to say is, admittedly through reluctant (of course) Western eyes, that it is the world. It can be the world in one place. It is the very epicentre of my curiosity and I only hope that at some point I can name those islands to which I can only identify through a very jaded measure of gestalt.