a random walk

It is a long and narrow corridor.

Doors line up neatly against the sides of it and they are painted with many different colours. Noting that colours on some doors are fresher, it is easy to tell apart the doors that have just been put up and doors that have been there long enough to demand for a free upgrade from the Government if they actually belong to HDB. However, regardless of the age of the units, all of them have a wonderful wooden board at the front and those boards are tidily hung with strings and nails stuck onto the doors. Engraved in similar fashion, English letters appear on those wooden boards but they seldom make sense to readers.

Almost everyday, without fail, I will take a stroll down that walkway and inspect the units individually and thoroughly. Some have locks on them but armed with my trusty paperclip that can be cunningly transformed into a lock picking device, I am able to unlock them with ease. Every unit has its own style, as determined by the owner of each unit who takes his or her time to improve or add to it. The interiors are incredibly well thought of and they allow me to easily find a spot where I can relax and immerse myself in the given settings.

There is, however, one unit that I will conveniently skip because it is situated right at the end of the corridor and somehow, I will have headache whenever I am inside the unit. Today, I have decided to be adventurous by paying it a visit.

The door creaked as I pushed it open. The shiny metallic coating of the hinges had fallen off, revealing crude patches of rust. The living room was filled with cobwebs, especially the cupboards which held fine china. A bronze sculpture of a charging bull stood prominently at the corner of that room and it was covered with a thick layer of dust. Feeling stuffy, I turned on the ceiling fan and dust fell freely on my head.

Damn the owner!

The terrible condition of the unit forced me to make an early exit and although I was covered in dust, I am glad that I made the visit.


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