Ah Huat: Me, a pathfinder. And which is my own path? What road am I travelling on, where am I heading?
The sky. And you, the moon. You look as if you are always up there. It’s hard to imagine that you’ll ever wane, ever eclipse. And the stars, so fixed in the sky. Such seeming permanence. Am I like that? Fixed, predictable, lodged snugly in a little niche of life and so exist in my appointed time and in my appointed sphere? Is my life like that, or will it ever change? Will I dare challenge my time and place, so altering the course, hurtling like a flaming meteor across the whole span of the sky? While all the rest stay fixed, stay stagnant.
The Moon Is Less Bright, by Goh Poh Seng