The woods are lovely, dark and deep

Though Singapore may have four and a half million people squished into a landmass smaller than New Zealand's Lake Taupo, you can still find pockets of quiet, lonely space.

It's 8:30pm in the evening, after a long day at work. Cue tremendous tropical downpour. D and I seek shelter and dinner at Singapore's largest mall (which is also closest to our home and has now become our local neighbourhood hangout), teeming with life and glazed-eyed shoppers. We grab a bus back home just as the rain is stopping. Get into our walking gear, and head out into the cool darkness up Telok Blangah Hill.

It's beautiful. Droplets of water rhythmically splash against us from the trees above. The ground still steaming from the cool rain sizzling on sun-warmed tarmac. Cicadas out in full orchestral force. We walk half an hour without seeing anyone. A regular miracle in Singapore.

If I were to close my eyes, I could be anywhere and nowhere, but this night, I transcend this crazy, tremulous island, to a half-remembered poem of old.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.