A Singaporean In Australia

Her statement would most likely have a different meaning to what was running through my mind for these 2 days but it was a surprising coincidence.

There was a place in Singapore we used to hang out. It wasn't a frequent thing, for I didn't drive a car during 2007-2008. It wasn't easy to get there from where I used to work if my buddy did not give me a lift each time. Besides, it was the company that counts and it wasn't often all of us had the time to sit down together after work. I enjoyed the place each time although we merely sipped a drink each. That little cafe was a hidden gem, most customers would agree. Protected from the hustle of Singapore life, simple, rough, a rarity of its kind especially in the west side of Singapore.

The place was called Gone Fishing, situated in Chu Lin Road. It was a terrific place. Kids and adults got to scribble on the walls, ceiling, everywhere. It was a heaven for someone who was frustrated with the lack of freedom to express in Singapore. I enjoyed reading what everyone had to write on the walls, though I didn't get to know a single person there. I didn't even get to talk to the owner. It was a philosophy cafe, the first of its kind in Singapore. They even held philosophy discussions in the cafe regularly. No I didn't join in any of those. I felt too shallow for this kind of thing and would certainly feel out of place being unable to express my thoughts clearly in front of strangers - if I had anything to express at all.

Despite that, I loved the aura of this cafe. It was a shrine of freedom and where I communed with myself. We would never fail to take our seat at the right corner of the entrance, the alfresco part of the cafe. Never in the air-conditioned area, despite the Singapore weather. Why? I would never know. It was just instinct  We took our seats naturally each time without much thought. There was a large print of a short poem at the entrance of the cafe, clearly visible from where I was seated. It was a tagline of the cafe. I could not remember the first part of it but the sentence ended with, "... why don't we go fishing?"

That sentence rang through my mind constantly. I never forgot. That sentence meant a different thing to everyone. I knew what it meant to me closely. That little cafe connected my spiritual needs to seek for a place with space. It planted the seed of my migration plans. Alas, the place was no more. You couldn't visit the magical shrine if you hadn't been there already. I was quietly devastated when I heard about it. It was one of the last few corners of Singapore that I really enjoy. The owner apparently sold up and gone fishing himself since then.