Halloween 2026: Still Hanging On

Halloween 2026: Still Hanging On

Another Halloween, another chapter of my Tengah Centralised Cooling System (CCS) nightmare. What was supposed to be the beginning of a new chapter in my photography career has turned into nearly three years of repeated cooling system problems, disrupted plans, emotional exhaustion and an ongoing struggle to move forward. I had hoped that by now, I would be spending most of my time developing my photography instead of dealing with the consequences of a cooling system that has caused me so much trouble.

For Halloween 2026, I decided to turn my experience into another conceptual self-portrait series. Unlike my earlier Halloween shoot, which focused on the waterfall incident, this project explores the wider impact of the prolonged ordeal on my life, photography career and state of mind. The photographs combine theatrical lighting, Halloween decorations, multiple versions of myself, levitation, documentary images and a little dark humour. Some scenes are deliberately exaggerated, but the experiences behind them are very real.

I call this series Still Hanging On, because that is exactly how I feel. The battle isn't over, and I don't know whether I will ever achieve the outcome I have been fighting for. Nevertheless, I am trying to regain my strength, rebuild my career and continue with my life.

The Real Horror Behind the Photographs

A Home Studio That Was Supposed to Change My Life

For years, I struggled to find a reliable place to practise and develop my photography. Before moving into our Tengah home, my wife and I were renting a place, and I didn't have a permanent studio of my own. I had already received enquiries from clients who wanted studio photography, but I couldn't always accommodate them. Having my own home studio was supposed to change that. I wanted to create portrait samples, experiment with different lighting techniques, produce personal projects and marketing videos, and develop new ideas that could attract more clients. As a photographer who handles everything from enquiries to shooting and post-production, having a dependable workspace would have made an enormous difference.

I had given myself approximately one year to push my photography business forward. With a proper studio, the necessary equipment and the demand I had already seen from potential clients, I believed I had a realistic opportunity to improve my income. There was also a deeply personal reason for that ambition. My wife was already over a certain age, and we understood that pregnancy and childbirth would involve increasing age-related risks. Before our marriage, we had agreed that we would consider having a child if I could establish a better financial position. I wanted to prove that I was capable of providing that stability, and I knew we couldn't postpone the decision indefinitely.

Unfortunately, the repeated CCS problems consumed the very period of time I had set aside to build that future. The delays were not merely inconvenient. They affected my concentration, confidence, ability to accept work and belief that I could make meaningful progress. Instead of spending my time creating photographs and building my portfolio, I found myself dealing with leaks, repairs, uncertainty and repeated disappointments. I have written more about my earlier struggles to establish a suitable workspace in The Story Behind My Studio.

The Endless Cycle of Repairs and False Hope

Each time the CCS was repaired, I hoped that the nightmare had finally ended. I imagined myself getting back to photography, developing my portfolio and taking my career to the next level. I was willing to wait a little longer because I believed that once the problem was resolved, I could finally concentrate on the work I loved. Unfortunately, the problems kept returning. After repeated attempts involving the trunking and insulation, my confidence in a lasting resolution deteriorated. Every failure meant another round of reporting, inspections, scheduling, repair work, touch-ups and cleaning.

Preparing for repair work was exhausting in itself. At the time, we had relatively little furniture, so many of our belongings were exposed or stored around the home. We had to move things, protect our privacy and supervise the work because the workers were operating in a home that we were already living in, rather than an empty renovation site. Just imagine moving into a new home and repeatedly having to prepare it for renovation work, then clean everything up afterwards. On one occasion, the workers finished at around 11 pm, and I spent another couple of hours cleaning. When the repair failed again, all that preparation and disruption had to be repeated.

I need considerable concentration to work effectively, especially because I usually personalise photography sessions for my clients. Planning concepts, communicating with clients, preparing lighting setups and editing photographs all require focus. However, the CCS uncertainty became so mentally draining that I sometimes felt too exhausted even to reply to enquiries. It was difficult to make plans when I couldn't be confident that the same problem wouldn't return and disrupt everything again.

When the Problems Began Affecting My Clients

One of the most distressing incidents involved a confirmed studio photoshoot with a fitness client. The CCS started leaking again, forcing me to postpone the session. The arrangement involved not only the client but also a makeup artist, and the client was at an ideal stage of physical preparation for the photographs. Trust and reliability are extremely important to me as a professional photographer, and I know how much preparation clients may invest in a shoot. Having to postpone an assignment because my own studio was unreliable was deeply upsetting, especially when the circumstances were beyond my control.

In another case, a client was keen to arrange a fitness studio shoot several months ahead. However, because I couldn't be confident that the CCS problems would be resolved, I didn't dare to collect a booking fee and commit to the date. The client eventually stopped responding when the date was near. I cannot know why she disappeared, but the uncertainty had already prevented me from handling the opportunity as I normally would.

These were not the only consequences. I substantially reduced the photography work I could take on while trying to cope with the situation. My business plans stalled, my savings were affected, and the home studio that was supposed to create opportunities became another source of anxiety. I even had to display a warning on my website explaining that studio photography was unavailable because of the cooling system problem, so that clients would stop approaching me for something I couldn't confidently provide. It was embarrassing and frustrating to keep repeating the same explanation. After all, how many people would expect a new home's air-conditioning problem to remain unresolved for so long?

The Fourth Management Meeting and Its Aftermath

After more than a year of trying to deal with the CCS problems, I was mentally exhausted. I had repeatedly explained the situation, documented the failures and spent considerable time dealing with the consequences. During earlier discussions with SP's management, I felt that my concerns had been dismissed and that I was being treated unfairly. By the time a fourth management meeting was requested after my story received mainstream media coverage, the prospect of having to explain everything again was extremely distressing. I couldn't understand why I still had to repeat matters that had already been brought to their attention.

I was sceptical about the usefulness of another meeting, but SP had asked to hear my compensation request, so I agreed to meet them again. During the discussion, I struggled to organise my thoughts and communicate everything I wanted to say. I was close to breaking down. Lawrence Pek, who attended the meeting, helped me express my concerns when I found it difficult to do so myself. I had spent so much time and energy dealing with the situation that even talking about it had become emotionally draining.

Seeking Help from My MP

I subsequently met my Member of Parliament, Dr Choo, who told me that she had managed to obtain a better offer than what SP had previously proposed (a full refund and reinstatement of my house). However, she did not disclose the details of that offer to me. I therefore had no way of assessing how much better it was or what it might have covered. Meanwhile, SP rejected my list of compensation requests without proposing an alternative that addressed the losses I had described. I found myself in a confusing position: I was told that a better arrangement had been agreed, yet I still didn't know what it involved or how it would help me move forward.

Dr Choo also introduced me to Melvin, the chairman of the Residents' Network for my estate. During our conversation, he told me that other CCS users had previously received full refunds from SP. I considered his account credible because of his involvement in the estate's community network, although I have not independently verified the details of those individual cases. Hearing this made me question why my own case had taken so long to reach the point of a full-refund offer.

Why a Full Refund Wasn't Enough

I had repeatedly allowed repair attempts because I wanted the cooling system to work as intended. Every time SP proposed another solution, I had to decide whether to give them another chance or abandon the system altogether. I kept hoping that the next repair would finally succeed, because I desperately needed to use the home studio I had worked so hard to establish. Looking back, I felt that I had given SP many opportunities to resolve the problems, while the repeated disruptions continued to affect my photography business and personal well-being. Had I been able to obtain a satisfactory resolution much earlier, I would have made alternative arrangements and started rebuilding my life sooner.

SP eventually offered me a full refund, but declined to provide the additional compensation I sought for the consequences of the prolonged ordeal. To me, refunding the money paid for a system that had repeatedly failed was fundamentally different from compensating someone for the time, work opportunities and peace of mind lost while trying to get that system repaired. A refund could help me move on from the CCS itself, but it couldn't restore the months and years I had spent dealing with its problems.

I was also troubled by the timing of the fourth meeting, which took place only after my experience had attracted wider public attention. I wondered whether the meeting was intended primarily to demonstrate that SP had engaged with me, rather than to resolve the full extent of my concerns. That remains my interpretation, not something I can establish as SP's motive. Nevertheless, the repeated delays, unsuccessful repairs and eventual rejection of my compensation request left me feeling bullied and powerless.

What made the situation even more frustrating was seeing SP publicise charitable initiatives and other positive stories about its work, including promotional content on social media. I recognise that charitable activities and customer compensation are different matters, but the contrast was difficult for me to accept. While I was struggling financially and emotionally, I felt that the harm caused by the prolonged CCS problems was not receiving the same attention as the organisation's public image. I would have preferred to see affected residents receive timely, transparent and fair resolutions without having to spend years pursuing them.

I intend to document the fourth meeting and the subsequent correspondence in greater detail in my Tengah CCS article, which contains the broader history of the problems and my attempts to seek a resolution.

The Personal Consequences I Never Expected

Eventually, I sought psychological support, in fact, before the fourth meeting. During my first appointment, I broke down in tears while telling a nurse I might no longer be able to afford to have a child with my wife. That was one of the most painful consequences of the entire experience. I had hoped that developing my photography business would help us make an informed decision about starting a family. Instead, I spent that precious period dealing with repeated failures, financial uncertainty and deteriorating mental well-being.

I cannot claim that the CCS situation alone determined our family circumstances, but I know how much it disrupted the professional progress I was working towards and how deeply that affected my confidence in the future. To me, the real horror was never just water dripping dangerously from an air-conditioning system. It was watching time, opportunities and peace of mind slip away while I struggled to get back to the life I had planned.

The Story and Meaning Behind the Photographs

I arranged the 20 photographs to follow an emotional journey, beginning in the corridor outside my home and ending inside the studio space I had hoped to use for my career. The first nine photographs use Halloween imagery to express my state of mind, the next six document the actual CCS riser, and the final five explore my efforts to recover and continue.

Photos 01–03: A Lost Soul

The opening photographs show ghostly versions of myself moving around the CCS riser. The blurred figures represent confusion, repeated attempts to move forward and the feeling of being trapped in a situation that never seems to end. Each unsuccessful repair gave me another reason to hope that I could finally restart my photography plans, yet I repeatedly found myself back at the same point. In the third photograph, two more clearly defined versions of me appear together, with one standing while the other crouches in distress. I wanted to express the contrast between the part of me that still tries to function normally and the part that has become overwhelmed by the ordeal.

Photos 04–07: Behind the Door

The partially opened CCS riser becomes the entrance to a Halloween nightmare. A bat appears, while I react with suspicion, exhaustion, desperation and fear. These expressions reflect how my feelings changed after repeated repair failures. Initially, I wanted to understand what was happening and believed that the problems could be resolved. Over time, every new sign of trouble made me increasingly anxious about what might happen next. The bat is a fictional antagonist rather than a literal representation of any individual, providing a playful Halloween symbol for a situation that had become frightening and difficult to escape.

Photos 08–09: Confronting the Nightmare

Instead of continuing to hide from the problem, I approach the opened riser with a camera flash. The light represents my attempts to investigate, document and expose what has been happening. As a photographer, lighting is one of my most important tools, so I deliberately used a flash to connect my profession with the struggle I have been facing. The same equipment I normally use to create portraits becomes a symbolic tool for confronting the nightmare. However, this is not a victory scene. It represents the effort required to keep asking questions and seeking accountability, even when I am already exhausted.

Photos 10–15: The Real Horror

After the theatrical confrontation, the series changes to documentary photographs of the actual CCS riser. These images show the cabinet, insulated pipes, valves and visible moisture in the area. I included them because I didn't want the entire project to be interpreted as a fictional Halloween story. The decorations and dramatic poses are staged, but the cooling system and the problems I have been documenting are real. The sequence begins with a wider view to establish the location, then moves closer to the insulation and areas where moisture is visible.

The CCS riser door was recently replaced. It used to be whiteish, and the bottom of the previous door had deteriorated after years of exposure to moisture. I have lost count of the number of times technicians were sent to work on the piping and insulation inside the riser. At some point, two strips of insulating material were added near the bottom, although I don't know exactly when or why they were installed. As the photographs show, moisture was still visible when I inspected the riser.

I also noticed what appeared to be masking tape among the materials used inside the riser. I couldn't help finding that rather amusing, especially after all the repair attempts. Anyone who has used ordinary masking tape knows that it isn't exactly famous for its long-term durability. Of course, the photographs alone cannot establish what every material was intended to do or whether it was suitable for the application, but the overall appearance certainly didn't inspire confidence in me.

Photos 16–18: Learning to Save Myself

The story then moves inside my home, where I appear to levitate beneath the cooling unit, with the familiar Giant mop set's bucket suspended nearby. My wife had repeatedly encouraged me to meditate, but my mind was too occupied by the CCS situation for me to concentrate properly. I didn't actually practise meditation as part of my recovery. Instead, the floating poses are an imaginary representation of the peace and mental control I wanted to achieve.

In reality, I sought help through psychological services, continued my regular Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) consultations, and spent considerable time reading about self-improvement and studying human psychology. I watched many videos about understanding people's behaviour, managing conflict and dealing with difficult situations. The photographs represent that process of learning rather than a sudden transformation. The progression from a dark silhouette to a more clearly illuminated figure, and finally to open eyes, suggests my attempt to regain awareness, perspective and control over my thoughts.

Photo 19: Still Hanging On

In this photograph, I hang from a pull-up bar with one hand while holding my handwritten protest sign with the other. The cooling unit remains above me, serving as a reminder of the unresolved situation. The pose is both literal and symbolic. I am trying to train back my old physical strength so that I can continue dealing with the challenges ahead. I know that I may not win the battle, but I don't want to give up on rebuilding my life and career. I also used blue lighting behind me as a separation light, both to distinguish my body from the background and to introduce a calmer mood after the unsettling green and red lighting in the corridor.

Photo 20: A Little Halloween Defiance

The final photograph shows me wearing a black singlet with a cute ghost illustration while holding the handwritten message “EndangeRing YouR TENGAH” across the lower part of my face. The message is my satirical response to the branding associated with the Tengah cooling system. They may think it's their Tengah, but the actual fact is that it's your and our Tengah, and they shouldn't be here after causing the mess. The contrast between the cute ghost and the serious experience behind the words is intentional. I wanted to end the series with a little dark humour rather than another photograph of despair. It isn't a declaration that the nightmare has ended, but simply my way of saying that I am still here, still expressing myself through photography and still trying to move forward.

Recycled Props, Hidden Meanings and Sustainability

I deliberately avoided buying new Halloween decorations for this project. After everything I had already spent in time, energy and money dealing with the CCS situation, I didn't feel that Tengah CCS deserved another cent of unnecessary spending. I also wanted to avoid creating waste for a photoshoot that would last only two days, particularly when I had already witnessed so much material being used during repeated CCS repair attempts.

Halloween Decorations Donated by Thomson Lim

The Halloween decorations were kindly donated by Thomson Lim, a fellow Tengah resident whom I regard as something of a Tengah legend. He had cancelled his CCS subscription before moving in and incurred a financial loss in doing so. The decorations had already been used in previous years, and a few were torn, but that didn't bother me. They were still suitable for the photographs, and reusing them was much more meaningful to me than purchasing new decorations. My wife accompanied me when I went to collect the props from Thomson personally, and I'm grateful to both of them for helping make the project possible.

The Giant Bucket I Couldn't Throw Away

The Giant supermarket's mop set bucket has a special place in this story. It was used during the earlier CCS leaking incidents and had become rather well known among residents who were active in the Tengah CCS Issue Telegram group. My wife had wanted to throw it away for a long time, but somehow, I kept hesitating. I didn't want to discard it until the CCS saga was finally over. Perhaps keeping it was my way of acknowledging that the problem remained unresolved, even though I would have preferred to forget the entire experience.

For this photoshoot, I suspended the bucket near the cooling unit and placed a blue-gelled light inside it. An ordinary household object associated with the leaks became one of the central props in my conceptual photographs. I suppose it was fortunate that I hadn't thrown it away after all, although I would much rather have had no reason to keep it.

The Recycled Envelope and Town Council Magazine

My handwritten “EndangeRing YouR TENGAH” sign was made from a large white envelope that I reused instead of buying new display material. Unfortunately, the envelope was too soft to remain upright on its own, so I eventually stuffed a town council magazine inside to make it firmer. I had regarded the magazine as rather wasteful and of little use to me (except to transport spider out of my house), so I was amused that it finally served a practical purpose by supporting my protest sign. The result was simple, inexpensive and effective, with a little irony thrown in.

Clothing and Colour Choices

For the corridor scenes, I wore a maroon shirt with my usual denim work shorts. The shirt represents the photography career I had hoped to develop after moving into Tengah. Under the green lighting, much of its original colour becomes less prominent, which also fits the idea of my ambitions being overshadowed by the CCS situation. Inside my home, I changed into my familiar navy-blue Skai Chan Photography shirt, which I had also used in an earlier Halloween project. It connects the photographs to my professional identity and creates continuity between the different chapters of my story.

The final black ghost singlet introduces a lighter Halloween mood while retaining the same personal message. I continued wearing my usual denim shorts throughout the series, reinforcing that the different characters and emotional states all belong to the same person.

Behind the Scenes: Two Exhausting Days of Photography

Although I appear in every conceptual photograph, I was also the photographer, lighting technician, art director and production assistant. I had to plan the scenes, prepare the equipment, position the props, operate the camera, pose and review the results myself. The entire production took two days, and it was far more exhausting than the finished photographs might suggest.

Preparing the Equipment and Props

Much of the preparation involved digging through our bomb shelter to retrieve equipment and small accessories. I needed lighting equipment, such as light stands, modifiers, colour gels, and stationary like tapes, strings and other items that were scattered among our stored belongings. The lighting modifiers included a snoot, reflector, softbox and different gels, some attached directly to speedlights and others used with the reflector. I had to decide which tools would help me create the intended atmosphere while keeping unwanted light away from the surrounding areas.

Preparing the decorations was another time-consuming task. I had to position and secure the Halloween props, arrange the signs and consider how everything would appear from the camera's fixed viewpoint. I used gaffer tape rather than ordinary masking tape to secure some of the props, which made me particularly amused by the tape-like materials I had noticed inside the CCS riser.

Day One: Photographing the Corridor After Dark

I started the corridor photographs after dinner because I wanted relatively little ambient light. The darker environment allowed me to control the atmosphere more precisely using my own lighting. However, photographing myself was especially difficult. After setting the camera, I had to check its LCD screen, move to the intended position, pose, return to the camera and inspect the result. Without another person directing me, I couldn't easily tell whether my posture, expression or position was correct until after the photograph had been taken.

This resulted in many unsuccessful attempts. Even small differences in where I stood, how I angled my body or where I looked could affect the composition. I repeatedly adjusted the setup and tried again until the photographs were close to what I had imagined. Unlike photographing a client, where I can observe and guide the subject continuously, I had to become both the photographer and the person being directed.

The Motion-Blur Photographs Were Particularly Tricky

The opening photographs required precise timing during long exposures. I wanted recognisable figures at the starting and ending positions without recording too much movement between them. To achieve that, I had to move very quickly from one position to another. I actually moved backwards and almost hopped between the positions because I couldn't afford to waste much time during the transition. I repeated the process many times to get the positions and timing right. The finished photographs may look ghostly and effortless, but creating those translucent figures involved a surprising amount of rushing around the corridor.

A Shoot That Continued Past 1 am

The corridor session continued past midnight, probably until after 1 am. I was conscious that my neighbour's doorbell camera might have captured a great deal of my activity, although I don't know whether it actually recorded all those movements. This was the same neighbour who had previously gone to the trouble of finding an instruction manual to help me turn off the CCS riser valves during the waterfall incident, and I remain grateful for that assistance.

By the time I finished, my wife had already gone to bed. I tried to minimise the noise while preparing to shower, even using my phone's light to look for my shirt inside our master bedroom wardrobe because I couldn't switch on the ceiling lamp. Unfortunately, I still ended up disturbing her sleep. I was also extremely hungry after working for so many hours, so I had a late supper. Looking back, I realised that I hadn't been drinking enough water during the shoot, despite knowing that I should have kept myself hydrated, particularly while taking some TCM medication that I understood to be rather "heaty".

To make matters worse, I encountered an unexpected website problem related to my web host. After resolving it, I finally went to bed after 4 am. It was certainly not the kind of restful night I had hoped for after an exhausting photography session.

Day Two: The Home Studio Scenes

Despite sleeping so late, I had to wake earlier than usual for my regular TCM appointment and medication. I was already tired before beginning the second day's production. In the afternoon, I started planning and preparing the scenes inside my home. My wife helped by buying dinner so that I could concentrate on the photography without having to spend additional time travelling or washing dishes.

The home photographs involved different challenges from the corridor scenes. I had to arrange the suspended bucket, position the lighting, work around the cooling unit and carefully prepare the hanging and levitation compositions. Although I was working inside my own home, that didn't make the process particularly easy, especially when I had to handle everything myself.

The Painful One-Handed Hanging Photograph

The hanging photograph was particularly demanding because I had to hold my body weight with one hand while using the other to display the handwritten sign. I chose the camera's two-second self-timer rather than the ten-second option because I found the shorter countdown easier to judge. With a longer countdown, I would have had more difficulty predicting exactly when the shutter would fire, especially when there were so many things to remember.

I had to hold the envelope correctly, stop my body from swinging sideways, position my head, look towards the camera and raise my legs into a crossed position. Most importantly, I wanted the pose to look effortless, even though it was anything but. I repeatedly checked the camera's LCD screen to see whether the framing, posture and expression were correct.

My palm became sore from repeatedly gripping and rubbing against the pull-up bar. I couldn't wear gloves because they would have changed the appearance I wanted for the photograph. The physical strain was genuine, and every unsuccessful attempt meant having to climb back into position and try again. It was probably the most physically demanding scene of the entire project.

Creating the Levitation Photographs

Since I was already planning a photograph of myself hanging from the pull-up bar with crossed legs, I thought it would be interesting to create another scene in which I appeared to maintain a similar posture without holding on to anything. For the levitation photographs, I supported myself on a stool and later removed it during post-production. The floating effect was therefore created through a combination of careful positioning, photography and digital editing.

I experimented with different lighting treatments, beginning with a silhouette and progressing to photographs where my face and body were more visible. The blue light inside the suspended bucket added another unusual element to the scene. I was relieved to finish the second day's photography before midnight, particularly because I wanted to avoid disturbing my wife's sleep again after the previous night's experience.

Lighting and Photography Techniques

Lighting has always been one of my main interests as a photographer, and I wanted it to play an important role in this project. Rather than relying entirely on the existing room or corridor lighting, I deliberately shaped the atmosphere with flashes, modifiers and colour gels. The different lighting treatments also help distinguish the emotional stages of the story, from confusion and confrontation in the corridor to the calmer atmosphere inside my home.

Green and Red: Unease and Confrontation

In the corridor, green lighting creates an unsettling atmosphere around the CCS riser, while red adds a sense of danger and confrontation, particularly around the Halloween bat. I used modifiers such as a reflector and gels to direct the light and limit unwanted spill. Because the corridor is a shared residential space, I also had to consider the surrounding environment while preparing the photographs.

Blue: Calmness and Separation

Inside my home, I introduced blue lighting to create a different mood. Blue is a colour I associate with calmness, and it suited the photographs about learning, recovery and rebuilding strength. In the hanging scene, the blue light also served a technical purpose as a separation light, helping distinguish my body from the background. In the levitation photographs, a blue-gelled light illuminated the suspended bucket.

Self-Portrait Timing, Compositing and Post-Production

Unlike a conventional portrait session, I couldn't rely on someone behind the camera to direct my movements or tell me when my expression was right. I had to anticipate the camera's timing and repeatedly inspect the results. The series combines different techniques, including long exposures for ghostly movement, compositing for multiple versions of myself, and digital removal of the supporting stool in the levitation scenes.

The theatrical photographs are creative interpretations of my experience, while the six CCS riser photographs serve a documentary purpose. I wanted that distinction to remain clear, allowing the Halloween imagery to express my feelings while the documentary photographs show the actual conditions I observed.

Still Hanging On

When I first moved into Tengah, I imagined a very different future. I wanted to develop my photography, build a reliable home studio, create new work and improve our financial stability. I also hoped that doing so would give my wife and me the confidence to consider having a child. Instead, I spent years dealing with repeated CCS problems, uncertain repairs, disrupted assignments and an exhausting dispute. The effects went far beyond the cooling system itself, affecting my concentration, confidence, finances and plans for the future.

I have been trying to help myself through psychological support, TCM consultations, reading, learning and gradually rebuilding my physical strength. Recovery has not been a straightforward process, and I still have difficult days. Creating this Halloween series was exhausting too, requiring two days of preparation, lighting, posing, and repeated attempts, excluding post-production. But unlike the repeated CCS repair cycles, this was a project in which I could make creative decisions, solve photographic problems and eventually complete something meaningful.

I don't know whether I will ever receive the resolution or compensation I believe is fair, and no amount of repair work can simply return the time and opportunities I feel I have lost. Nevertheless, I want to keep developing my photography, regain my strength and move forward with my life. These photographs are not about defeating a Halloween monster or pretending that everything has become better. They are about trying to continue despite an unfinished struggle.

For now, I'm still hanging on.

Related Stories

• My Tengah CCS Experience — The detailed history of the cooling system problems, repair attempts and dispute.
• The Story Behind My Studio — Why establishing a reliable photography workspace mattered so much to me.
• My Previous Tengah CCS Halloween Photoshoot — The earlier conceptual series inspired by the CCS waterfall incident.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Thomson Lim for donating the previously used Halloween decorations, and to my wife for accompanying me to collect the props, helping with meals and putting up with the disruption caused by my photography. I am also grateful to the neighbour who previously helped me find the instructions for shutting off the CCS riser valves during the waterfall incident, and to the people who have supported me through this difficult period.