Every artist has his own city. Mine is Singapore. That it is the city of my birth and that I have spent most of my life here have not made photographing it easier. In the constant struggle to decide between what’s exciting and what’s boring; what’s real and what’s fake; I have also been cursed with the burden of having to discern what is picturesque and what is unphotographable. How do I convince a man that his sunning of pillows along the corridor is worth recording, when he has been doing it for years? How do I explain to a commuter in her bright red stockings that her legs are a visual treat? There seems to be no immediate answers, only more questions. I shall continue to believe in photography and not words.