Holy Shit, man! Skyscrapers!

It’s quite inspiring you know, to be faced with this sight each time I clock into office. It’s the view from the URA lift lobbies, eight floors up. I think it kinda makes sense, that urban planners are daily confronted with the realities of the-things-we-do. In the distance, I spot the soft glaring glows of the unseen steel welders of another upcoming tower of glass, and the sociologist in me imagines that it’s probably a slew of Burmese/Vietnamese migrants, silently building the concrete dreams of a city that wasn’t their own.

Ah well.

I’m swamped with upcoming projects. It helps that they’re all massively interesting but I can’t talk about em cause they’re all pretty much hushhush. But I’m foreseeing myself a few weeks down the road, rushing for deadlines and meetings with the multitude of bosses (of whom I loyally report to). Filled with stacks and stacks of architectural blueprints and concept plans under my air-conditioned armpits, rattling off figures of spaces and things, and trying hard not to exclaim in sudden ecstasy (whilst pointing in the distant distance): Holy Shit, man! Skyscrapers!

That. Would not be a good thing.