As I walked the long, familiar path, I can't help but take in all the sights.

The old playground, where there used to be many laughing children, including me at one point of time, running about gayly without a care in the world, now devoid of human life. The old, rusty steps to the slide looked very different, and at the same time vaguely familiar. How odd it looks without little children sitting on it or climbing up eagerly to go down the slide.

I then walked through the void deck adjacent to the playground. A cold breeze brushed past me as I glanced at the pillars. The very pillars I used to run around while playing catching with my friends all look so weathered and uncared for. The paint was all peeling off and cracks were clearly visible. I sighed knowingly. I understood that soon, this building would be gone and there was no use at all repainting the pillars or mending the cracks.

I got into the dark elevator and pressed the button with the number '11' on it. I sighed and leaned my head back as the whirring of the elevator distracted me from my thoughts. This is the only place I know that still has such noisy elevators. As weird as it may sound, I then realised how much I actually missed that noise.

The elevator door opened with a loud, clanging noise. I exited and walked the all-too familiar corridor. I glanced over to my right, beyond the highway, where a rejected old building stood. Clothes of construction workers hung out of the windows and it just pained me to see that. You see, that old building was the place I began my primary school education. I remember the splendid garden with frangipani trees and numerous benches where I would sit with my friends and talk during recess. I remember the field, where we used to catch grasshoppers and the gigantic tree whose roots were used as makeshift balancing beams. I also fondly remember the big drain where we used to catch tadpoles. Sadly, all those features that I have grown to love are long gone. What I see now is just a pathetic building next to level ground. An area that shows no sign of ever being a warm environment for little children to grow up in.

The corridor seemed awfully quiet. Usually there would be the loud clatter of mahjong tiles coming from a certain unit. Upon closer inspection, the unit was vacant, as are the other units at that level and the one above. When I got to the 13th storey, I finally saw signs of life, the multitude of shoes outside the unit to the left. I mustered a smile as I pressed the doorbell and waited for someone to welcome me in. A smiling face greeted me as I finally found some familiarity in the unit I grew up in. However, the unit looked fairly neglected. Anything that was broken were not mended. It was apparent why though, as my grandmother chatted animatedly about the new house. I sighed as I thought, my childhood is officially gone.