Plain Face

I am Darren. I live in Bedok Reservoir, work regular hours, and write these notes when the flat is quiet enough to hear the pen scratch.

Quiet Margin is a nickname for a habit — keeping sentences in the margin before the afternoon gets loud. My neighbour says my labels look like a chemist's cupboard. I take that as praise.

I write about ordinary east-side routes: void-deck shade, reservoir wind, buses that arrive two minutes after you stop checking the app.

Nothing here is professional advice. If you need help beyond a neighbourly perspective, please talk to someone qualified. If you want to correct a detail in the Chin Swee note, email me.

The labels on my folders — Dawn Sill, Rail Index, Gate Latch — began as jokes and became navigation. Neighbours still ask whether I run a clinic.

I write on cheap notebooks because expensive paper makes me perform. The pen is a ballpoint that skips when I rush; rushing is the signal to stop.

Bedok Reservoir taught me horizontal thinking: water wide, block tall, path between. My sentences try to stay on that middle line.

Corrections by email are welcome when you were closer to a scene than I was. Speculation dressed as certainty is not.