But let me take a break and tell the anyam story.
Since it's still Hungry Ghost month...
It was late. The night was quiet as I trudged down 3 flight of stairs down the office. Already visualising my tempting bed and smelly (nice-smelly though) pillows. I was locking up the grill door when a movement to my right caught my attention.
I saw a man sitting on the corridor, weaving something. Looked like the strings food-stall owners use to tie up our bungkus stuff. My first thought was "damn that cheapskate employer! force the poor foreign worker to sit outside using free government provided street light to work". Plausible deduction, since the corner lot of this row of shop offices is a mini foodcourt. I quickly interrupted any further brainjuice usage to waste on trivial crap like worker abuse etc and drove home.
The next night, I saw him again. Doing the same thing. And it hit me. No matter how noisy I was coming down the stairs, whistling or humming a song or just plain being noisy... he didn't even look up. Yayaya, I'm no Miss Universe... but looking up when one hears something is... instinct, isn't it? Reflex?
I managed to get into my car while thinking about the weirdness of the situation. Then I looked out of the window. And he was gone. There was no one on the corridor.
Boy was I glad there wasn't any traffic roadblocks that night.
I've since then shared the incident with a coupla colleagues, but we didn't see him again afters. Publicity-shy fellow. I know I should ask the owner of the foodcourt if he's one of the workers there, but somehow...
I don't want to know.
I saw a man sitting on the corridor, weaving something. Looked like the strings food-stall owners use to tie up our bungkus stuff. My first thought was "damn that cheapskate employer! force the poor foreign worker to sit outside using free government provided street light to work". Plausible deduction, since the corner lot of this row of shop offices is a mini foodcourt. I quickly interrupted any further brainjuice usage to waste on trivial crap like worker abuse etc and drove home.
The next night, I saw him again. Doing the same thing. And it hit me. No matter how noisy I was coming down the stairs, whistling or humming a song or just plain being noisy... he didn't even look up. Yayaya, I'm no Miss Universe... but looking up when one hears something is... instinct, isn't it? Reflex?
I managed to get into my car while thinking about the weirdness of the situation. Then I looked out of the window. And he was gone. There was no one on the corridor.
Boy was I glad there wasn't any traffic roadblocks that night.
I've since then shared the incident with a coupla colleagues, but we didn't see him again afters. Publicity-shy fellow. I know I should ask the owner of the foodcourt if he's one of the workers there, but somehow...
I don't want to know.