Two possibilities on the open field awaiting development on Kallang Road, just past the river. The traffic chap usually stood roadside, monitoring the buses. Occasionally he gave little waves or nods to the drivers. White shirt, navy trousers & cap; often jacketed. Years ago they would have been proud of the uniform, the earlier generation. Either he was wanting to dry his jacket from the sweat, or else preparing for prayer. Roadside at work he kept kerbside beneath the thin shade of the young rain trees. Here he had come onto the grass and begun spreading his jacket in the full beam of the noonday sun. Lunch hour fetching 1pm; fetching the prayer. Cloudless, hot and sticky. Appealing to the almighty should occur not in the shadows, but in the full, open light—the tentative guess. The bus had passed too rapidly.
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