It was still a little too early for dragonflies to be fully active. But this small libellulid (a female Brachythemis contaminata?) by the shores of Upper Seletar already bore the scars of a disturbed morning. Strands of silk stuck to its wings, hiding some veins but doing little to hinder its flight over the dewy green. It was probably sheer speed and the luck of lurching through weaker webs that let her last the night to find relief on a day of half-felt conversation that offered no release from overheated words and an excess of questionable glances.