He is not of impressive height; he stands at 1.63, 1.64m. With his jolly size and demeanour, he exudes a sense of welcome and warmth, even to those who sees him for the first time. He has graying hairs that could perhaps use with a little wash and it is neatly combed to the side. Seen often with an affectionate smile, he looks harmless enough; an epitome of agedness but helpless, he is not. His eyes are twinkly, accented with laugh lines that betray his age. He seemed to be in his early 70s but his complexion is well taken care of. There was a healthy sheen on his face, that could only come from years of regular exercise.
He stays alone and has a pet cat named Meow. Meow makes up for the lack of company. He speaks to it like one would to a fellow human being and from simple actions like petting the cat and such, you could tell that Meow could be his only true friend.
He is fluent in Mandarin, albeit he speaks it with a little stammering. After a moment of conversation, it is easy to tell that he prefers to converse in Hokkien, seeing that he lapses into it every other sentence or so.
He travels often. There are times he would go away for trips for short trips. Next week, he is going to Sabah for 10 days for a photography session. He takes lovely photographs and is well versed in Photoshop. He belongs to a photography society in Singapore and learns his art form from various institutions, such as the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts.
He is occasionally visited by his America-educated son who also shares his passion for photography. They seemed to get along well; his tone would change to a more paternal one when he speaks of his son. His son looks exactly like a younger version of himself. It is not difficult to see his son growing into his father's looks, given enough time.
There is much to say about this elderly sir. Every morning without fail, he would pray piously to the religious statuettes he placed within his four walls. He seems to be in deep meditation when he does so, the kind that would not welcome any disturbance though his door and windows remain open. There is a quiet need for respect in the air, as a dignified silence pervaded the atmosphere.
There are times when we would just pass by each other, with a simple 'hi'. There was no additional effort to make conversation as it is with Singaporean customs. I know him not by any other name except Uncle. I doubt he would know my name, seeing that we have never interacted beyond the basic niceties of simple greetings.
But we made conversation yesterday in the lift. It came naturally. There was no need for a fake smile or pretense that I have gotten very much used to. The feeling was genuine enough to warrant a session on photography and photoshop, all the way till midnight.
He stays alone and has a pet cat named Meow. Meow makes up for the lack of company. He speaks to it like one would to a fellow human being and from simple actions like petting the cat and such, you could tell that Meow could be his only true friend.
He is fluent in Mandarin, albeit he speaks it with a little stammering. After a moment of conversation, it is easy to tell that he prefers to converse in Hokkien, seeing that he lapses into it every other sentence or so.
He travels often. There are times he would go away for trips for short trips. Next week, he is going to Sabah for 10 days for a photography session. He takes lovely photographs and is well versed in Photoshop. He belongs to a photography society in Singapore and learns his art form from various institutions, such as the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts.
He is occasionally visited by his America-educated son who also shares his passion for photography. They seemed to get along well; his tone would change to a more paternal one when he speaks of his son. His son looks exactly like a younger version of himself. It is not difficult to see his son growing into his father's looks, given enough time.
There is much to say about this elderly sir. Every morning without fail, he would pray piously to the religious statuettes he placed within his four walls. He seems to be in deep meditation when he does so, the kind that would not welcome any disturbance though his door and windows remain open. There is a quiet need for respect in the air, as a dignified silence pervaded the atmosphere.
There are times when we would just pass by each other, with a simple 'hi'. There was no additional effort to make conversation as it is with Singaporean customs. I know him not by any other name except Uncle. I doubt he would know my name, seeing that we have never interacted beyond the basic niceties of simple greetings.
But we made conversation yesterday in the lift. It came naturally. There was no need for a fake smile or pretense that I have gotten very much used to. The feeling was genuine enough to warrant a session on photography and photoshop, all the way till midnight.
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