Mother’s narrative ideal space
Imagine, if you can, a HDB house, built of stones varying in shapes and sizes, like a fortified structure. It is lighted neither by window nor by lamp, yet there is no sense of unease in the dark. There are no apertures for ventilation, yet the room carries a cooling breeze. There are no musical instruments, and yet at the moment that the authority is here, this room is echoing with creaking sounds. A bed is in the center, by its side a small desk – that is all the furniture. And in the armchair, there sits a superwoman – a woman, about 5 feet high, with a face as lived-in as an old book.