The void deck. Every Tom, Dick or Harry in Singapore would be familiar with it. Contrary to it’s very name, the void deck is not always “void”, of feelings.
In times of youth, the void deck is a place of joy, happiness and discovery, where children roamed on their scooters, learnt taekwondo, played “catching”. Fun times. More often than not, peals of laughter could be heard echoing from the areas of the void deck.
In times of old age, the void deck is also utilised for funerals. Big and extensive in space, the void deck was idea for a mid to large scale funeral, in which case of course sadness of the deceased’s families could be felt vibrating through the very walls of the void deck. The stoic faces, many of them mechanically folding incense paper to burn. No matter how many of it they burn, nothing beats the memory of the deceased burning ever so brightly in their heads. Tears wet the floors of the void deck, coating the cement like a new layer of feelings.
It is the times in between youth and death, that the void deck lives up to it’s name. Throughout adulthood, the void deck remains void, as busy adults rush there at the end of the day, brushing shoulders with their neighbours but never stopping to exchange more than a cursory greeting. There were letters to open, bills to pay, newspapers to read! Nobody had time to show any feelings of welcome to that new neighbour, or chat with that old neighbour. Nobody.
That is when the void deck is truly void.