It has dawned on me that going back to camp is like taking a mini 5-day vow of silence, because I rarely speak more than 10 lines a day. It's very much a culture shock within a culture shock, and I feel like Jack Donaghy thrown deep into the heart of Middle America. (And even then, I'm still not quite seeing that gritty Eric Khoo-esque notion of the Underbelly.) It's weird having to speak with a quaint, folksy Singlish twang in order just to be understood and to fit in, and the most natural thing (for me, at least) is to not bother speaking at all. And that is why I channel Marina Abramovic on weekdays. The Artist Is Present.
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