Bathing Failing

 

Outbound on Bukit Timah Road – Tin Hill, once upon a time, not so very long ago – the forest bathing was woefully failing. From the window of the Queen Street bus nothing whatever in it. Even where there were 10-15m sections, opening the windows would have produced precisely the same. Tall trees and thick cover of remnant jungle, holding within the stands Brazilian rubber and Malabar pepper, perhaps. Indian & Bangla crews were needed to contain the fecundity. Bathing of the eyes worked a teeny bit maybe, like the old Malays liked to do, refreshing themselves with the passing lovelies. (Cuci mata.) In the heart of the widest sections, those holding the tallest canopies, there must have been some hint of fragrance, softened treading underfoot, hidden birds across the branches – something like the last flicker of your device before the screen went completely dead.