“Hello, Unlce? I'm Joel here. Is 阿妈 in？……
阿妈？我明天跟你去饮早茶。好吗？
明天饮早茶。
八点。
嗯。”

That boy beside me was saying all that in stuttering Cantonese to his Grandma. But somehow it all seemed so grown-up. Compared to all the great sounding dreams that teenagers brag about, that now seem somehow shallow. But here, within such a simple conversation, I was encouraged. Glad for that utterly frank sincerity that came forth from his voice. Perhaps, we in Singapore haven't yet figured out how much we've lost when we forsook the dialect tongue.