As a child, as an adult, as a being who has come via South-East Asia, I am obsessed with Haw Par Villa, and always will be. Up at The Toast this week, Haw Par Villa: where your soul can never leave though your feet may go on the way. A really personal essay, and one of which I’m very chuffed.
Mum hustles us out the door. “I’ve never been,” she says, and that’s all I know.
There are other people milling around when we arrive. They’re all Chinese, too. This doesn’t strike me until later, but here, now, I don’t question it.
The snake looms over the gate. We move towards the Gates of Hell, and though it is my first glimpse, it is not my last.