Kindergarten Photo 1994

So, following the post I made about kindergarten, I managed to get my hands on a copy of my Year 2 kindy photo, courtesy of Brendan Chin.

Hoping to be able to get my hands on the Year 1 photo.

So without further ado, here it is in all our youthful glory, the Year Two Blue Class of St. Jude Kindergarten 1994.


I know the identity or have kept in touch with only a handful of those in the picture. As for the rest of them, their identities I do not know. I've posted the picture on Facebook and hopefully the pic will make its rounds and get some tags and we get to discover our long lost kindy mates.

It's really quite fascinating to see how someone looks like after 15 years and the last time which we saw them was when they were only 6 years old. It's interesting to see how we've all grown up and gone our own, separate paths. Just imagine, you're walking down the street and you see someone you do not know and you just dismiss them as some random stranger when in fact, that person was playing with you in the playground all those years ago.

Makes me feel all funny thinking about it. In a good way.

He Doesn't Know

Artificial darkness envelops him as the birds began their songs and the world awoke to their melodious tune. The hiding sun peeks out and chases away the lingering darkness as the window becomes a frame for a beautiful picture bathed in the soft morning light.

He wishes it was 6:40 AM, 24/7.

The sounds of silence plays as artificial light illuminates the 86 keys his fingers dance upon.

Why the dance? To prove a point? He doesn't know.

Time flies. It scares him. The solution? Photos. Time captured in a single frame, for eternity. A dozen emotions and stories fatefully intertwined and interwoven into a single, split microsecond.

Photos. They lie. They tell the truth. It's a room full of smoke and mirrors. But undoubtedly, they also elicit strong feelings of nostalgia in him.

He reminiscences on the past. He is sentimental and he yearns for days bygone. His sense of longing causes him to relive past happiness in his imagination. He smiles to himself. Imagination is a powerful tool.

He is a wistful fool. Some laugh at him, say he's stuck in the past. He doesn't care. He knows when his body fails him, when the future holds nothing for him but eternal darkness, all he has left is his past. When everything else crumbles to dust, all that's left is the echoing call of his memories. He knows when he goes six feet under, his Maserati doesn't accompany him. His $8.5 million mansion doesn't accompany him. No. The only thing that accompanies him is his memories.

Photos make him feel the same way every time. It's bittersweet and he embraces every moment of it. It's the bitterness that makes the sweetness all the more sweet. Bitter and sweet. Two sides of the same coin. They define each other. Without one, the other would not exist.