“Bon soir, bon soir!”
Mr Chef limps from table to table, as graceful as he can, and chuckles as he does so. His gait, his laugh and his quixotic outfit – scenes from dinners from a time past that were all too heartening and heart-breaking at the same time. Mr Chef looks almost too fragile for his jolly-ness; the age on his stature made for a slightly bitter-sweet dinner.
In short, we headed for dinner at a quaint French cafe that I used to frequent back in my school days along Bukit Timah – memories that glisten more brightly as the years go by. Of course, like most establishments in my little red dot, the cafe is now bigger, less rustic and a lot more commercial. Still, what caught me completely off guard was how aged the once lively French chef now appears, with the stoic black in his moustache lost to the greying autumn of his life.
Food was still fairly decent, and the evening ended with easy laughter and chats, for us at least. As for Mr Chef, it is simply another day that passes which calls forth the evening of his years.
Lately, I write too little and shoot too much, and have made way too many attempts at creating hipster portraits and latte art.
Happy 364th day of 2013 xx