I ended the rabbit year with death, a surprising one. At the service I’m told he’s going back into the arms of heaven, comforting words to soothe the hearts of those left behind to suffer his absence. As the others sang hymns with their hands in the air, I thought about how my parents could only have another 12 years to live, and the thought alone made me choke.
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Chinese New Year was the usual boisterous affair: hearty servings of buah keluak, itek tim and popiah; pineapple tarts and kueh bangkit in tubs with red lids; money in red envelopes, money on tables with cards; lo hei on the table, in the air and on the floor.
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I talked to a watch dealer in a shady shopping centre. We sat among rows of Panerai and mahogany wood furniture. I tried on a Rolex from 1950 with a solid gold bracelet, a worn out face and bubble back feature. I’m sticking to my Casio for now, but talking to people with a real passion (and not just the motivation to earn money, even though in this case they go hand in hand) is always inspiring (and makes me wish I have a properly developed one).
