Author: Sue Lin

There is always one piece left. It sits at the corner of the plate, golden and quiet, while the salmon and tuna disappear first. The tamago. The folded egg. The one I always save for…

The clock had just passed noon when I stepped off the street and into the cool dim of a small sushi bar. Outside, the air shimmered above the pavement. The heat pressed against my back…

The evening air in Singapore holds onto the day’s heat long after the sun goes down. I turned off a noisy street in Tanjong Pagar, leaving the bright glow of neon signs and the endless…

The sky above Singapore rarely warns you before it breaks. One moment, the heavy afternoon sun beats down on the pavement, and the next, thick charcoal clouds roll in over the city skyline. I felt…

There’s a certain magic in watching sushi glide by. Plates spin in a steady, hypnotic rhythm, each one carrying a tiny promise, a slice of salmon, a curl of eel, a playful roll that makes…