Singapore National Library

Café attached rather better than Starbucks, which was passed up along the way in the Bugis shopping maze.
         One good thing: waiting staff special young people carting trays before them with gently lolling heads.
         The neatness at Reference entirely suspicious. Stacks appeared completely unused. The kind of shelves and rows made to order for pristine PR media releases that make a politician look good.
         The Humanities Reference section—possibly the reason. Biz Management and the like on the floors below.
         Remarkable rows of untouched volumes, unbroken spines, in perfect order and alignment.
         Up here your correspondent by far the oldest male at the tables, anywhere over the carpeted halls. A fright really. Where is my hometown bedraggled ancient who pops up every so often—first sighted at Soulfood was it years ago? Prior to departure the creased and crumpled angel was spotted in the larger room beside Reference at City Library going hell for leather into a lined exercise-book. Treat to behold. What was that text on top of his pile now? A history of the Soviet empire? Latin America? Something pertinent and noteworthy.
         A pleasure to find a stand evidently recently donated to the institution by the French Charge D’ Affairs, or some such. Celine! Virilio & Debord. Genet what was more! Lee Kuan Yew would have a spastic fit did he only know. The half of it did he know. (Never will the volumes be read here for all that. Not with Climate Change shortening the odds so sharply, vulnerable island.)