46x61cm
Oil on Canvas
For my dear friend Iman, who would mull with me on the same conversations again and again, for our yearning of home, to love and be loved. A scene of her father’s hometown of Lebanon, a scene of our breakfast routines at Ya Kun, before she moved away from her hometown, Singapore.
We barely ever did live in the same city, I used to live away, while she would stay, she now lives away, here now I stay, the love we hold in being a sister to one another anchors us in each time, every conversation and place.
For her Yaroun, the ground that understands her without explanation, for us both often, Singapore a land sometimes not at all.
But when I am old and grey, and maybe with a loose sense of memory where all the moments might pass me, I will anchor myself once again to the idea of a home, and maybe this painting might remind me of the taste of kaya toast dipped in runny eggs, and also the conversations we shared in our moments together, the transitory power of love and how the places we didn’t and did grow up in embodies us in ways we cannot explain.