About

Farah, keeping a line per day

I am Farah. I was born in Singapore and have lived in the north for most of my adult life — Woodlands first, then this flat at Blk 517 Woodlands Drive 14 where the corridor faces the car park and the afternoon sun hits the kitchen by four.

I work three days a week at a clinic near Marsiling, doing admin — appointments, filing, the quiet labour of keeping a front desk in order. The other days I help my mother with errands, walk the waterfront when my knees agree, and sit at the kopitiam downstairs with kopi siu dai and a notebook that is not always filled.

DailyTrace started because I kept losing the small parts of days. Not the big events — those stick — but the ring a cup leaves, the auntie who remembers you, the stranger who returns a card without a word. I wanted one place to ink those marks before they faded. The name fits how I write: one trace per day, like a contour line on a map that only I need.

My entries are short on purpose. I am not a reporter or a critic. I do not review restaurants or rank neighbourhoods. I log what I notice on my dotted routes — Marsiling market on Saturday, the MRT platform at evening peak, the kitchen table where I write one sentence before sleep. If you read here, you are reading a personal record, not advice.

I write in English because it is the language my notes live in, though my mother tongues colour how I hear things. Some sentences come out flat. That is fine. Precision matters more to me than polish.

When I am not writing, I read borrowed library books, cook rice the way my mother taught me, and call my cousin who works near Outram. We talk about ordinary things. Sometimes those calls become entries weeks later, when a detail returns.

If something here resonates, you may write through the contact page. I read messages when I can. I do not promise replies to every note, but I am glad when someone says a line landed.