Like a cinematic view, the Queenstown Cinema came into view from a distance. Cladded in a patina of rust and mold, it fondly reminded me of the times when I was just a 4 yr old kid, begging my parents to buy that 5 dollars ticket to watch a movie, even though I have no idea what it was. I remembered that movie posters weren’t printed, but painted by an artist. I remembered that eerie cinema toilet which I was so scared to go in alone.
Around the corner emerges the abandoned KFC. Images of my 7th birthday celebration with my now deceased grandparents flickered on my mind. I remembered the times I wanted to sit at the window, watching the public play bowling, even though I have no idea how the game was played. I remember waving at strangers whom I never knew.
Moving on to the ticketing counter, I remembered the time when my mother scolded me in public for the first time. I stood at the exact spot I was back then, and remembered how massive my mother looked. I remembered my tears, my sobs, under the scrutiny of the public. How embarrassing it was back then!
Now as I think back, these memories, happy and sad, ugly and beautiful, a sense of nostalgia warmed my heart.
The building will soon be demolished to make way for new development. People will see a new sleek and stylish building in its place. I might not remember the movies that I watched there, but memories of that old, rusted and dilapidated cinema will always remain in my mind.
All buildings grow old. Some might fade away. But memories of times spent at the building will never diminish. A building might be gone physically, but it continues to live forever in the memory of one.
Tan Soon Lee Alex
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