While waiting for Rey last night (we did not exactly confirmed the timing and I ended up waiting for about half an hour), I was stoning at the smoking section outside Raffles City. (Technically, it is not exactly an official designated smoking section, just that everyone just hangs around that area for a smoke or two.)

Even though there is a dustbin located around that area, people just cannot seem to lift their lazy asses over to walk five metres to stub their cigarette butt in a proper area. They would just flick it to the ground, grind it with their heel, or snuff their stick into the soil. And if they happened to finish their last stick in their pack, they would just crush the box and leave it. I shall not even begin to describe the ashes that have beened flicked here, there, and everywhere.

The cleaner who came over to sweep the cigarette butts, ashes, trash and whatnot was this China man in (perhaps?) his mid-thirties. I know I am not supposed to feel this way (since he was obviously just doing his job as a cleaner) but I could not help feeling sorry for him as he has to clear the rubbish of inconsiderate smokers and litterbugs. He was pretty hardworking, too, I must say, stopping at every little trash he spots on the ground.

I have quite forgotten what I want to write about him. It was just that sitting there, stoning for a period of time kind of churned this idea to write a post on cleaners and road sweepers. And, I guess with how my random mind works, for that split second, my brain must have done its random-link-change-of-subjects-thought that have moved on from the cleaner to the smoker to the moon and cheese and eventually, I lost my train of thought.