Yesterday, while disinterestedly contemplating the aesthetics of the Jack Neo scandal (nope, there's nothing to speak of), I learnt that the man who fell on my 3 year old self at the Exit B escalator of City Hall MRT station has passed away. As my grandfather erases the name of the last living friend on his address book, I recall going out with both of them — endearing little tot entertaining two old gentlemen with a resurgence of youth and vitality etc. — and I wouldn't say I had fun, but those occasions did leave a lasting impression on my young mind.
Today, I screwed up my meals structure by having kimchi soup and bad ice cream at 10 am. Now I feel like shit, although this feeling is made worse by hearing ominous news and chewing on a char siew pastry at the same time. So I am leafing through the doctor's report, and his choice of diction reveals some alarm masked by an apparent clinical tone. The words "nodule" and "cluster" recur several times, hinting at an unnatural state of affairs, while "collapse" takes on several layers of meaning in this newer context, underscoring the severity of the status quo while suggesting the breakdown of other structures, both physical and metaphysical. The writer offers a nuanced take on the situation by the deliberate absence of emotive language, preferring instead to suppress the cerebral aspects with what is objective and independent of feeling; yet there is a slant towards acknowledging the unknown, highlighting the fragility of women's inner states in connection to what is corporeal and ineluctable.
I wish that the MCTs were the only things worth worrying about this week; I'm dying to know how that would feel.
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