An Indian man with a turban wrapped around his head came up randomly.
“Heeey, when you sleep, your body is sleeping, your heart also sleep, but your mind can never sleep. Why do you think too much?”, the man said while pointing his finger to my forehead.
“Who are you? How can you say like that?”, I responded.
“I read it. I read it!”
“Who are you?” I kept asking.
“I read palms. And nice to meet you”, he said. Then went away.
“Something’s wrong with that man”, I told myself.
I continued my way, thinking of that brief strange event. But a few steps after, I stopped and turned around looking for him. I didn’t find him.
“No, it’s not about him. There is something wrong with me.”
Singapore, November 2012.