"It's like a worker's dormitory," I said, half-jokingly to CL.

10am, the warm morning light is diffused - that doesn't make the room any cooler. Nor do the small ceiling fans that whittle away incessantly (don't get me wrong, I rather have them do that than suffer the blazing heat of Brunei).

I'm lying on a grey double-deck bunk bed, and many more surround me - there are 2 rows of beds that face each other, 16 beds or so in each row. I'm lucky to have a fan near me, its far warmer sleeping below. The bed sheets are familiar, I think to myself. They are the same blue ones that are used in every Singaporean army camp. At least they seem clean - no dubious stains on them. I sit back up, its tiring to read while lying down, and I observe the narrow artery of the bunk. That grey concrete walkway, whose dark grey veins no one notices - surely that can allow for no more than 3 franticly rushing individuals (its always about rushing here and there in the army). Yet that isn't an issue on this day, or on many other days as well - most people are out in the Borneo jungle. The only proof of their frantic rush is the stuff left lying around: toiletries above their narrow green cabinets, footwear tossed about the tight space between every 2 beds.

I needed a break from A Clockwork Orange - Nadsat was really pissing me off. Or perhaps I was getting drowsy from it, I can't be sure. I looked up and stared at the pitched roof, and the wooden structural beams caught my eye. They were painted a disgusting shade of brown - why couldn't the builders have simply varnished the wood to allow the natural grains to shine through. It would definitely make the space less depressing. And then I stared at what was behind me: meshed screens, chock full of exoskeletons.

And then I thought to myself, this would be home for two weeks.