Joie de vivre accompanied my visit to Singapore Expo this day, as part of the academic carnival of the accounting elite. Note: only about 30% of all scholars on this globe - based on previous year statistics - would expect a positive respond next February when the result for this paper is out. That could leave me lingering in the 70% majority who would be lauded for the courage to adorn their minds with a colourful, dazzling language named Audit. My mum should be so proud if she knows. Audit, I love you so.
The unglamorous, unspoken perk was the babe watching – from the office lunch crowd to the pretty face of a dragon lady twitching with exam’s nerve. Some of the ladies arrived dressed to kill off their male competitors. But of course, nobody came in bikini, which would really make my day. They made great stress relief though.
As darkness fell with a slight drizzle, my destination sign blinked Orchard. Like flocks of sheep, the scholars huddled close in the pen that was the train. No, I did not suffer from excessive nose bleeding – that would be too disgusting.
KL, my humble companion of the same sex, had harboured the idea of viewing “a history of violence” with my most gracious approval. He is indeed a worthy mate. I imagined the history as a piece of art, only to be disappointed with a soulless, aimless satire - perhaps of the nation itself. That the basis of the history is a contemporary graphic novel explains its narrowness and hollowness. That almost speaks like a saving grace though I love a history of violence not.
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