Tropical raindance, a pluviophile’s dream. November, in Singapore 2016.
Text & Photo © JE Nilsson, CM Cordeiro, Sweden 2016
A tropical storm raged just out from under the hawker centre night shades. Within the compounds of the hawker centre in a small enough area, an elderly male busker had put on the most upbeat of ’80s dance tunes. He stood just beside a flattened cap he had placed on the ground, moving energetically to the beat.
“You should go out in the rain, and dance!” said a voice that stood to my right.
I looked to my right, caught a pair of sparkling eyes that belonged to that familiar voice, and smiled. I wanted to. I’d be soaked through to the skin in warm rain, something I could never do in the Nordics.
“This is your kind of weather” the voice encouraged, “go dance!”
Looking at the elderly male busker grooving to his own chosen ’80s dance tracks, he had by now asked his female companion to join him in the show. I shook my head in reply. “It’s not polite if I outdid them.” I said. “Worse still is if people just stared at me, and didn’t throw me any money… I’ll do a hot chocolate evening, with a book instead.”
Those sparkling eyes smiled in my direction, “I’ll throw you some Godiva if you danced out there!”