fugitive pieces

It's been a strange week, full of conversations and encounters that all seem to be pointing to some vague Meaning which has yet to be made manifest. Fugitive pieces: the Population White Paper; the Entwistle bookshelf; talking about social justice (and wondering when we'd start *doing* it); rediscovering Vivaldi; Jeremy Tiang's Chinese middle schools article; the Monsieur Lazhar essay which i nearly didn't submit; the jazz guitarist busking outside Chinatown MRT; seeing Singapore at night as if through a video camera; the conversations about church and community; that Fou Ts'ong interview; washing dishes and reading scripture in church; visiting old mosques and temples; working out summer plans...
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All these bits and pieces, each of which seems so brimful of significance for some reason that i have yet to fathom. It's all starting to feel very strange -- as if i'm looking in on my own life through a layer of sound-proof, reinforced glass. I can't help but think of those times as a child when i visited the polar bear exhibit at the zoo -- how i used to stand with my face pressed against the glass enclosure, the half-tonne bears swimming silently in the blue blue waters just inches from my nose.
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