I’d spent a great deal of last week giddy at the coming of the weekend. While I generally enjoy those two days spent away from work (even “special” moments when the day job simply has to encroach unto some personal time), this weekend was extraordinary simply because of the Singapore Writers’ Festival. I obviously don’t write for a living, but I’ve always liked to believe that I read and write to “get a life”.
I have never been to events solely intended for the discussion and exhibition of the written art, so you can only imagine my excitement (like a child waiting for her birthday, I tell you) at the prospect of this first time. I went to one of the first discussions of the week- long SWF, luckily the one which had the great Filipino novelist/writer/journalist/publisher F. Sionil Jose as one of its speakers to celebrate the Short Story. I borrowed his Puppy Love collection of short stories from my University’s library so many times that the librarian could’ve sworn that I were either the slowest reader in school, or the most obsessive. I took my seat inside an almost brimming lecture room, sans any caffeine at 10 on a Saturday morning… with only pen, notebook, and that quiet sense of happiness one feels when she finds a place like home.
Melancholy, heroism, character, principle, structure, destruction, love… are things that great works of literature have always given me. For the next few days at the SWF, I am gratefully and humbly going to be in the presence of the gods who give.
PHOTOGRAPHY & TEXT BY AUTHOR UNLESS OTHERWISE STATED. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.