👋 Oi, mga repapips, Brian Dys here! I love music, photography, and creative stuff like UX design and art. This is a place where I collect my thoughts and works. Apart all these, I’m Jaycelle’s better half and Bryce’s dad. 🥰
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So here, under the shower of plumerias and against the gush of the wind, I have been wandering off my mind. This morning birth was surreal.. as if the whole street was not just swept off particles but off people, too.
Just for a second, I thought I saw a little girl riding her red bicycle but as I smiled, only the ash grey asphalt had the coldest dead stare. Damp from the early six o’ clock dew.. it reminded me of tears.
I caught a falling flower and tuck it between the pages of a book. A useless bookmark.. one which will only stationarily reside in those significant part.
The part where I bought a bouquet of flowers and invited everyone to my funeral.
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Originally published in happyobituary.blogspot.com on 9 February 2005 2:35 pm.
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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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