(the last mile)
(the last mile) documents the final moments of the infamous Golden Mile Complex, known for being a little Thailand in Singapore. Popular for its authentic Thai food and night clubs, the interior is flooded with the fragrance of spices and dishes, wrestling with the stench of beers, urine and unsurprisingly, wastes of many varieties.
A place filled with the sounds of merchants selling their goods during the day, while the night is contrasted with the deep chest-pounding beats of club music, accompanied with the hedonistic chatter of club patrons and staff.
To step in here after all the tenants have moved out brought an uncanny sense of emptiness, a forlorn atmosphere. To see a communal center point striped away of human life transformed a once bustling place to a liminal space
This great tower has a significant place in Singapore’s history, it’s a pity it has to go.
Being greeted with an exit sign felt synonymous with the eventual fate of this building, along with its merchants who will head out its doors one last time.
A space akin to that of the backrooms, a popular internet sensation. A carpark once filled with vehicles now is but a void.
A door hinge connecting the carpark to the mall. Who knows how long this spot hasn't been cleaned.
We sometimes forget that this place is not only a shopping mall but also houses many residents of different races and religions, who knows where they will move to once they are evicted.
Detail of a staircase, these tiles date back to when the building was first erected, acting almost like a time machine to Singapore's architectural blueprint of yesteryears.
One of the many passages to the underground carpark. Not surprisingly, this private area away from the public eye was filled with the strong stench of urine.
The central escalator of Golden Mile, linking patrons to the upper floors where more indulgence can be consumed.
The ventilation shafts, bringing fresh air into an already thick blanket of air.
You can almost hear the clangs of metallic utensils and joyful cheers accompanied by the clinking glass.
One of the many store evicted. Think of the laughter, cries, and stories shared on these very chairs.
A toilet sign that has led many people to relieve themselves, or to clear their systems after much consumption of alcohol (or drugs?)
One of the popular resturants serving authentic Thai mookata, a favourite amongst many Singaporeans, young and old alike, now empty and vacant. Have you eaten here before?
A facade recognisable by many, now devoid of people.
An exit door that has seen better days, enduring the force of a hundred trolleys each day.
A man finds his way around the mall, a disparate world from its former days.
Shutter loom in the shadow of a store once bustling with light and life.
The empty chair sits outside a store it once hosted many tired bottoms to.
The long hallway of the office space on level 4 reminds us of the hallway fight scene from Inception.
One of the many exit signs that populates the facility.
A light flickers in the corridor of the residents' lobby. A space once filled with life is now but an empty row.
The facade of the residents' quarters is akin to the dyspotic metropolis of Mega City 1 from Dredd.
The dark and infamous level 5. This place is known to be haunted and a popular spot for paranormal hunters.
One of the staircases connecting the lobby to the residents' quarters, many foots with many stories have crossed this path. Now, a ghostly silence permeates this area.
A memorium of the conditions this lobby once endured.
The lights that once illuminated the central area will soon breathe its last breath.
Merchants commune around their stores, getting one last squeeze of the limited time they have left in a place they did business for many years.
A mover transporting equipment serves as a stark reminder of the fate this building will eventually face, solidifying the fact of its eventual destruction.
Units in the residents' quarters. Think of the stories and families that lived here and the stories they could tell.
The corridor of the residents' lobby. A space that feels oddly tight and open at the same time.
A famous restaurant with a community of patrons. You have more than likely eaten here at least once in your life. Now, it is but a barren tomb. You can almost hear the laughters of customers, fading like an echo.
The door that is almost like a portal from one realm to another. This door links the bustling central lobby to an eerily quiet residents' lobby, the atmosphere of the two are stark.
The many letterboxes of residents and merchants. Uncollected letters of vacated tenants now lay like prisoners within its confine.
The great central staircase of Golden Mile, a recognisable sight to many who have entered.
Samples of the letters that tenant received prior to their evacuation.
A lone trolley that once served hundreds of shoppers now neglected and cast aside, taken for granted.
An suspiciously inviting light welcomes all who wishes to relieve themselves.
Whoops.
A large taxi sign that, like a lighthouse, that guides late-night party goers to their journey home.
The entrance to the underground carpark, a path that has seen many vehicles both local and foreign, bringing goods and probably other suspicious items.
The large recognisable round windows grabs the eye of anybody who walks along its path.
The Golden Mile icon hangs in the shadow of a light, signifying the end of a glorious era.
A lone man awaits his ride at the pickup point, a spot bustling with the chatter of tourists awaiting their ride to their home country.
Detail of the majestic architectural design of Golden Mile. It's almost like a temple of ancient days, glorious and steadfast.
A unit light glows sombre, alone amongst an army of vacated tenants. It's the last of its kind.
The great Golden Mile Complex towers over Beach Road, awaiting its final days.