Yesses and Nose.

Add hawk.

Singapore — My nose is on a journey.

The garlic, the incense, the curry. Cardamom, charcoal and fry oil. Fresh fish. The sweat. India Town’s flowers. It’s a strong argument for the invention of olfactory photographs as nothing else can do this justice.

In the neighborhood, colours burst from buildings like ripe fruit. Ripe fruit bursts with flavour.

In the Tekka Centre, fans oscillate over the market and hawker stalls as a pigeon pecks at our feet. A vendor weaves between orange tables, offering to sell us beverages.

It’s a community of religions and backgrounds breaking bread and it’s individuals serving their hunger, sitting alone, eating curries with their hands. Crushed beer cans stand unevenly at the centre of tables, huddled beside crooked cigarette stubs. It’s also men catching up.

More than half the shops are closed and still, the clanging of woks, the heat of the tandoor, the boisterous laughter.

The aromas.

This is amazing.