wrap everything up with your neat little Bezier curves.
You who’d view everything through the tiny red lights.
And the blues and the greens – green as the silly
tortoise of some ancient Greek dude that thought the
thoughts you had long before you did. Echoing his
pet’s conviction, Zeno said that you couldn’t go
anywhere, because to get somewhere, you had to get
to the halfway point first. But to get to the halfway
point, you had to get to the halfway point’s halfway
point. And so on and so forth: there would never be a
halfway point that you would reach. Yet, walk long
enough, walk far enough – walk into infinity – and the
halfway points got rapidly smaller and smaller,
collapsing into nothingness. How glad were you when
such a thing happened! When what seemed like
infinity converges into a finite perceivable reality as
the problematic abstractions wittered away. You
thought this was the norm, that nothing cannot be
understood by a constant peek into its behaviour (your
relentless optimism shined despite your desperate
claims otherwise).
---
Every day, you’d walk past Bras Basah on your way to
work. You’d catch glimpses: glimpses of the middle-
aged sitting on the steps outside the National Library
issue
issue 01
01 | zaw
| Chen
lin Yi
htoo
An