‘But my heart would not bleed poetry. Not a single drop to stain the blueprint of our past’s tomorrow’—poet Boey Kim Cheng asks us, what price for a city that ‘erases the flaws… they plan, they build… they have it all.'
Your average life expectancy is 80 years. Look around you—how many buildings will you outlive? You can’t keep the library, the playgrounds, the nameless spaces that you and your friends made your own. Even the old spaces of lore—Bukit Brown, Bidadari, MacRitchie—suddenly loom large. Your memories have no anchors. This landscape doesn’t add up. You can’t believe in the old narrative of progress and constant redevelopment. Not anymore.