The walls inside Kam Leng Hotel show signs of age, in a style disconnected from today. Sun rays from outside, its eternal companion, had discolored it into a light hue, leaving much imagination as to what was the original paint color. Earlier, someone rode a bicycle into the premises and parked it at the foot of a stairwell, as if in a hurry to a lunch date upstairs, the faded paint sign above it depicting a restaurant serving European food on the building’s fourth storey.
There is no indication of whether the rider had left; the bicycle itself upon inspection had aged in years. A poster cast along the stairs, which may have listed notices, is left blank—as though it was silenced. A clock perched above an elevator around the corner had froze its hours of the day in time.
Nothing here seems willing to reveal its secrets to the visitor.