I had just started work as a broadcast journalist when the Hotel New World collapsed. I remember being at the scene the night of the collapse and filing a report for the news the very evening, which I then had to rush back to the station so it could make the evening’s anchor bulletin. My report was on the families and friends who had people trapped in the collapse. They had come to keep vigil. Their families carried hope and despair. Meanwhile, a a group of Singaporeans had already set up provisions for food and drinks. And in the days to come, during the search and rescue operations, more and more NGOs and caring Singaporeans were to come forward to set up meals for everyone involved in the operations. Nearby, another hotel offered the TV journalists a room to wash up and rest as many were working round the clock as coverage for this disaster was round the clock. One of my strongest memories of the incident was the smell. There was the stench of death. And it is one I will remember