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I took off to this beach in Mindanao because I was too tired of working and being some old bummer (or loser, if you want to suggest) at the same time.
Medium palm trees were the linings instead of house walls. The breeze was like those old afternoon movies that made you feel so low. But this time, it made me relax for the first time.. in a different way, though.
I planned to live here in this beach house for the rest of my life. I can see myself turning reddish, and my hair in grey tone.. holding some surfboard in my right hand.
And a golden retriever named Ulan greeted me everyday.. every sunny and rainy day.
(After reading ‘The Catcher In The Rye’)
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It begins to rain. A gentle pour of heaven’s tears. Of joy.. with its smile, the rainbow in the horizon seems an arm’s reach.
She waits in the overpass.
He emerges from the last step of that drenched pebble stairs. The first sight she has is from the faint puddle. That bright yellow daisy, that kindred smile.. lively in the pot, beaming at her.
Both hearts with solid foundation melt. A facet of the love story amidst the rush of everything. And if someone speaks of time unstoppable,
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Originally published in happyobituary.blogspot.com.
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I was locked to read your eyes like old Latin prayer book. Only the punctuations I have understood, and the blessing of your apparition. Only this pillow set us apart like mountain that bid only signals to commune. But I was able to caress your hand.
How time crawled as it backwardly learned unlike a baby. The day brightened, it shed. We were still.. unmoving position of mind game dancing. You were the only one playing.
The creases your head and hair made were still on my pillow. The fresh fossils that they were, I straightened with my indifferent hands. Your tear-stain scent exhibited garland disremembered. Have you been weeping during your sleep or mine?
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Originally published in happyobituary.blogspot.com.
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I came to this century-old house to stay for a month. So far away from home; twenty helpless miles in Siquijor. Where can you find a work stationed in the land of transparent people?
Five corners and thirty blocks of native houses, this decent middle class shelter sprouted from view. “Room for rent” sign hanging by the gate. A kind smile by an old woman greeted me on the other side.
Cheap room for only one thousand five hundred pesos a month. Only fifteen blocks from work. I walked for so long only to find this hidden treasure. Retro-finished tiles, cracked ceilings, dirty mirrors, rusty fans, and even the caretaker seemed like she just got out of her casket. I was pretty much instilled with liking for old things.
Cutting the crap.. night came and peace enveloped the vicinity. Crickets and dogs were the only ones orchestrating. I fell asleep instantly and I woke up as quickly. There was a lucid woman floating at the foot of my bed. I hollered at her till my throat turned inside-out and my tonsils gone like punching bag.
I actually enjoyed that moment when I was letting myself experience the wholeness of fear. Let fear consume even the dirt stuck in your toenails and it will eventually turn into yummy stupor.
I only stayed in that place for two days, though.
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Originally published in happyobituary.blogspot.com.
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