10pm
this is when it begins.
hunger makes the food taste good.
everyone’s there
after rehearsals or an opening
unwinding over food and
milo-ping.
casual conversations
fall into reminiscing
18@Substation S11
I learnt about theatre
that mattered.
it was better than clubbing.
tables join
straws are wound into roses
that unfurl into ribbons
a vague, seemingly ridiculous idea
finds collaborators and
a project takes shape.
the last bus passes,
but it doesn’t matter.
capturing that moment
when an idea finds its form
means more
at S11.
3am
the rain beats down.
I faintly remember the sound it made on the tin roof.
the smell of hot soup.
how windy it can be when it rains.
warm-up with another teh alia.
someone starts drumming on tables and singing
and I start to join in.
on a cold rainy night @Substation
S11 throbs with dreams.
some intensely saturated green neon sign.
shifting forms
bleeding into bright white light…
where nothing seemed impossible.
one:lab 