Goodbye, Hemisphere

RIP, Hemisphere.

I didn’t know how long you were since gone, as it was a while since I had dropped you a little visit of my own, be it a solo personal moment or as a group affair – I am sorry, I think I have been preoccupying myself.

*

It was a Saturday; the streets were filled with people, endless traffic flow of crowd streaming to their destination choices. Not wanting to sound like a complete sadist, but I have this love-hate relationship with crowds and people – one part of me loves to be with the crowd, be it to be there at the moment when things happened, whatever they may be; and the other part of me dislikes the crowd, ever moving and seemingly without any grace, patience, acceptance of any people that may deemed to have fallen behind, just because they are slightly a little weaker than the average. Of course, then there are the ugly Singaporeans as well – or, in general, ugly humans (not in terms of appearance).

A cancelled out shopping meet with high school friends (A + S) resulted in another solotripping within just two weeks short, but I had a goal; and it was completed at about 2000 hours sharp. Before heading for a neighbourhood dinner (A + S), I wanted to spend some quality time sipping root beer float, lazily on an armchair that probably wasn’t cleaned ever since day #1 of operations, but guess what – I am dirty like that, and I like that. My legs were beginning to feel enlightened – it was a hard day of endless walking and browsing, and they deserved a good damn break. Towering city buildings were everywhere, and after escaping Centrepoint, OG stood there, bright lights everywhere. I glanced up at the building, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone dining there, in Hemisphere.

Darkness; fears. Damn.

I rushed up the steps, the escalator, hoping that it was untrue. But it was; from the remains of the local design section of the department store to just the well-hidden cafe hangout, it was now dominated by children’s merchandise. The entrance to the cafe now led to hollowness and emptiness, with no sign of belongings, of life beyond the restricted area to the secret of the city; my secret of the city.

Half of me wanted to do the ridiculous and dramatic of jumping over the barrier to have a glimpse of what was the remains of it all, but the realistic half of me got the better. After trying my hardest to see that this was not a joke, and it wasn’t, and that people weren’t just hiding behind the corner/pillar to the dining/seating area in a secret thrill to surprise me, I turned and left, with the disappointment of:- (a) losing a good spot in the city to the everchanging and developing city; (b) not having my root beer float; (c) not getting to laze, furthermore, outside, like I wanted to.

You gave me breathing space; you gave me a place to rest my weariness. You gave me an opportunity to laugh at the big majesty city; you offered me comfort and disillusion, a chance to fall back and still manage a soft landing. You were like a city’s best kept secret (to me, in a small scale basis), and yet a secret to most you will forever be.

Thank you, and I miss you and I will miss you.

Just some of the few people who may/may not just miss you, as well:
(I don’t know you but I hope you don’t mind)

http://orionstar76.blogspot.com/2008/01/lunch-with-isabelle-at-hemisphere-cafe.html

http://food-for-your-thoughts.blogspot.com/2006/10/hemispheres-cafe.html

http://cafediaries.livejournal.com/

And some everlasting memories (A + S inclusive):

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