snippet

I revisited the toa payoh polyclinic today (I last went there 10 years ago) to check my back. I think I smell like sarsi because of the sarsaparilla-scented ointment that I have to rub on the affected area. Also, I have painkillers (that I probably will not be touching unless very severely depressed), a new tongue scraper and the most delicious pack of caramel apple chips that I've had in a very long while. Shopping in pharmacies are strangely more interesting now.

They've changed a lot. The familiar latticework grills in the waiting hall are now replaced with sleek wood-and-glass paneling, and the sliding plastic signs inset in metal cases that once hung precariously on their hooks are now bigger, bolder and glossier. But before I start to sound like a piece of Unseen Prose , I must say that the people have not changed, or, if you will, seem replaced by a brand-new set of old people, languishing in their creaking wheelchairs as the wrinkles formed by their loose and hanging jowls undulate to create waves in synchrony with the movement of their wheels across the grouting in the floor.