As the story goes, Sang Nila Utama a prince of Palembag (an Indonesian province) ****was out at sea, a storm erupted and the ship was caught mighty waves and began to sink. To prevent the ship from sinking, his men jettisoned the heavy things on board to lighten the ship. On the advice of the ship's captain, he threw his crown overboard as a gift to the sea. Apparently, the storm died down and he reached the island Temasek safely.

As he went to hunt wild animals near the river mouth on a patch of open ground, now referred to as the Padang. Suddenly, he saw a strange animal with a red body, black head and a white breast, which swiftly disappeared into the jungle. Impressed by this beast's beauty, he asked his chief minister what animal it was and was informed that it was a lion. Thus a meagre Temasek turn into a Singapura, the lion-city.

Although historians suggest lions were never native to the island and that the animal was likely a tiger, the legend of the lion has been a foundational part of Singapore's historical narrative.

Singapura felt very peaceful yet disturbed, patient yet desperate, abundant yet restrained.

Their attempts to make home in a place of rapid growth, reflected in their memories of the lush forests the city emerged from, impressed and felt in the bristling concrete cuboids that cut through frequenting clouds and scraped the sky.

I saw fragments of other cities in Singapore, I saw the downtown streets and waterfronts of Vancouver, the tamed yet verdant flora mingling with city streets of Bangalore, shophouses and street markets in Chinatown in San Francisco, the retail scenes of Osaka, and the blend of high-rises and colonial architectures like in Mumbai.

There was a bite, a relentless force that the culture and their demeanor disguised that’s more palpable in the way the city is run.