How to live poor in Singapore 5

hide and feed

Don't seek me. I'll go hide in a corner and feed myself a meal snack. You see, the huge shopping malls have an utter lack of seating space. Except for restaurants and food outlets, of course, which cost a few dollars, or a dozen or two in money, for a brief staying of your bottoms, usually less than even an hour. There is rarely free parking, even on the ground.

At which you have to find a clean enough spot, invisible with germs and other dirty stuff, and ignore their presence, just like you would pay seats. A thick shorts should provide that thick skin, to sit cross-legged. I was conditioned from schooling childhood to be clean up painstakingly after my eating, unlike the entitled indifferent younger today, and the successful privileged older from yesterday. My compulsive obsessed self carries the rest of the chore.

You luxuriate in the delusion of too many choices displaying from stalls and eateries and hawker factory courts and supermarket ready-eats; I take the cheapest of decent quality, drink bottled home-tap water, and make do with cheapest carbs bad for diabetes. When you're not a successful, globally talented professional, you neither beg, nor can choose for much: certainly not premium chronic-sickness friendly, over-processed packages of nutrition and beverage.

There I go, shut up and eat and drink and clean up quickly, seated on the floor, gazing back at passers-by who stare as they pass by, to lose me forever when they empty their short-term memory recycle bins.