I am Shalini. I live on the eighth floor of Block 8B along Upper Boon Keng Road — the same block referenced in the footer, the same corridor where shoes appear outside gates in the morning and disappear by nine. I work in an office near the river, which is close enough that I can walk the park connector on days when the email count is tolerable and the rain is not vertical.
Half Past Kallang is a personal blog I host independently. The name refers to a time of day rather than an ambition. I write about ordinary evenings, wet pavements, coffee before commuters arrive, buses at dusk, and objects I carry back from the market. Nothing here is sponsored. Nothing is ghostwritten. If you see an opinion, it is mine and it may be wrong.
I am not a therapist, counsellor, financial adviser, journalist, or public figure. I do not offer sessions, courses, newsletters with paid tiers, or downloadable programmes. I do not accept guest posts or link exchanges. The contact page exists in case you need to reach me about a factual error or a privacy question — not to pitch services.
I grew up in Singapore, left for university, returned, and stayed longer than my younger self predicted. I have lived in this flat for six years. The view is blocks and sky, not the river itself, but I know which direction the water runs when I open the window. My neighbours include an uncle who repairs bicycles on Sundays, a family with a dog that barks at the lift, and an auntie who once lent me detergent when I forgot to buy my own.
I write in British spelling because that is what I was taught and what my notebooks already use. Dates on posts refer to when I finished a draft unless stated otherwise. One older note on the home page remains unchanged because rewriting it would sand away the uncertainty I was trying to preserve.
Photographs on this site are mine unless captioned otherwise — taken on walks or at the desk, never staged for stock libraries. Maps load only if you choose to load them; see the cookies page for how that works under Singapore law.
If you read something here and recognise your own shop, your own corridor, your own habit of smoking by a half-closed shutter — thank you for sharing space in a dense city. I am not writing about you specifically. I am writing from a place that happens to overlap with yours.
