When time pauses and there is just me and my massage lady

Most people get massages to relax and tune out; I go for my sessions to learn and tune in.

- Tan Dawn Wei

I don't have many indulgences in life. No designer bags, no Michelin-star dining and no business-class travel. My idea of decadence is springing for a Grab ride instead of taking the bus or the MRT now that I no longer own a car. But one thing I will not give up is a good, hard knead every week to unravel the knots in my shoulders that have a way of accumulating until a gnawing ache develops and keeps me awake at night.

Some people need coffee to function. I need someone to dig their fingers into my scapula and smooth its contours until I remember what breathing feels like.

While living in Beijing for more than six years, my massages became a ritual - a nonnegotiable endeavour pursued stubbornly on my electric moped even in the dead of winter, as I shivered and scooted to my massage lady, my face buried behind a thick fleece blanket to keep the subzero winds out.