three of us meet for dinner.
we have thirty years of catching up to do. quite apart from the news, there is an earthy home-flavored charm to speaking in the patois of my youth as long-forgotten vocabulary reappears. this is nothing like the intellect shattering singlish. malaysian patois is correctly english and correctly malay, effortlessly entangled into a strangely elegant new dialect. i puas.
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