1.

Machines accumulate junk data over time, twisting their insides into digital colic. Concrete jungles often hold vast boulevards of long-abandoned server racks, their trunks bent double with the weight of information: expired authentications, mouldy spreadsheets, bulbous cloud storage clusters grown yellow with age. It is common courtesy for arborists to cut these swollen growths loose, letting them compost naturally on the rubber-floored undergrowth, where they eventually cycle back into the digital ecosystem.

2.

The offices of skyscrapers naturally migrate upwards; once attaining a certain maturity, they gather along well-ventilated corners, overhanging as best as they can the asphalt valleys that lay below. Heating ducts twist into each other, form vines. Cubicles concatenate into fruiting bodies. Carpeted foliage bursts into full bloom, signalling sexual desirability. The glass fronts of buildings bend like full rice stalks. Their facades cannot wait to fuck. By the turn of the fiscal year Shenton Way is shadowed by a rutting mass of false-stucco ceiling tiles and wood-panelled desk suites, and crossing Raffles Place is lethal without an umbrella to shield from falling staplers.

3.

Top-heavy, Singapore begins to bend, as all cities do, into herself. Entire streets are closed off from the sun. Ocean-view penthouses crash into beige-paint concrete, glass-fronted balconies get cosy with bamboo laundry poles, aluminium skytrees melt into the outspun arms of angsanas, sagas, sycamores. The alleyway becomes a thing again. Aircon units, smothered against each other's sultry warmth, explode into flames. The heartlands become airy cages of brick and glass. The CBD is rendered uninhabitable and people stop going to work. Our windows are pressed up against each other so we see our neighbours again. So many buildings press into each other that Singapore looks like an enormous flower, and it is so beautiful that we love our country again. It rains, sometimes, and the water pools along the buildings' backs. Someday the city will bloom, but there is still time to learn.