The door frame is left standing long after the door has disappeared. For those of us who are familiar with the old Singapore with its kampungs, street hawkers, a 30-cent bowl of mutton soup and abject poverty, standing and gawking at the sight brings nostalgic memories that can never be relived. With my eyes shut, my nose detected the all-familiar smells of poultry droppings, the mangroves nearby and the fresh rural air. My ears pick up the crowing of cockerels, the howling of dogs and the gentle lapping of the in-coming tide on the river banks just behind me. Across the other bank of the narrow river, fishermen are warming up the engines of their boats re-enacting a generation-old routine of fishing for their livelihood. Thank goodness for fishermen who fill our tables with fish, prawns, crabs, crustaceans, slugs and other marine denizens of the deep.