It was halfway through the journey, and I paused. At one point, just one moment, the horizon stretched in front, going on and on.
For once, there was no land in front, nothing safe upon which to rest the eyes.
It was just 15km off Singapore, but it could have been 150km at certain times. There was a sense of quietness, stillness out in the sea, even as the waters danced around us.
There is something poignant, almost aching, by being alone in a vast space, with nothing and no one in sight. Perhaps a reminder that this is a lonely world, and in the end we are all orphans.
The Southern Islands were beautiful in a curiously Singaporean way. The general wildness and romanticism of islands were tamed by neat gazebos, artfully designed to look somewhat rustic. The feeling of chancing upon a tropical beach clashed, and then reconciled with the fact that there was a well-maintained toilet lurking at the edge of the beach.
The best moment for me?
Sitting out there on that tamed wild beauty, alone and yet in the company of a great group of friends, singing the pledge at 825pm.
Happy Birthday Singapore, and sorry we were a bit late. I love you, and all your idiosyncracies.