Cocktails in the Infinity Pool Singapore wears her skirts high above the knee, proud of her slim and tanned thighs. Her shopping malls mesmerise, their glimmer, gold and glitz, veneer-deep, a skin of tropical sweat glistening on a body we all desire. Across a polished sky, a grey mass threatens to unload its burden; rain that will sing as it bounces off swimming pools and Ferraris, trapping you where you stand or forcing you indoors, into air-conditioned boutiques, French pastries, Italian coffee and faux New York sidewalks. And yet. There is history here if you care to look, if you bother to make the journey out to Kranji or see Changi as more than just a destination for departures and duty-free; long hauls of another kind are buried not so far beneath the surface. Perhaps it is apt that her history is a precious metal to be stroked not scratched, to be caressed by cotton gloves and melancholic remembrance - and then forgotten, conquered by expeditions to Channel, Louis Vuitton, and cocktails in the infinity pool.
Hey! I saw your post pop up on my homepage and wanted to show some support. If you get a chance, I’d really appreciate a little love on my latest newsletter too always happy to boost each other!
Hey! I saw your post pop up on my homepage and wanted to show some support. If you get a chance, I’d really appreciate a little love on my latest newsletter too always happy to boost each other!