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21:35 | barker
christmas vacation has come for studying children and i was not a bit surprised, though not expecting, to find a young man, barely in his teens maybe, barking for passengers to ride jeepney taking the MRT-Ikot-Campus route. i was standing at the waiting bay for quite a while, more of watching the child work--or play, depending on one's world views--than waiting for my ride. i saw how the child, wearing overly large shirt and walking shorts for his size, wait for a "free" jeep, that is one without a barker, infront of the gas station, a good fifty meters from the waiting station by my estimate, and holler for passengers to ride the jeep, shouting "MRT-Ikot" at the top of his lungs three times in one swift go, while keeping pace with the vehicle.
he may had not noticed me but i rode his jeepney.
i wait for my ride day in and out at the same place and that was the first time i saw this young jeepney barker. instead of thinking of irresponsible parents who let their child wander on the streets at this early in the morning to earn a few coins, what i saw was a determined child with a vision of what he wants and works to achieve it. a smile spread on my face thinking of what this child would be in the future if this kind of spirit of his would continue. i have high hopes for this child.
my daydreaming, however, came to a full halt when i heard the child, from the window, sigh. "kuya, inagawan na'ko." i looked infront of the jeepney and i saw an older barker, probably in his late twenties to early thirties, barking for the same jeep the young child had declared ownership of first. the child was watching at the sidelines, sometimes barking for his jeep, but not with the same surety and timbre as before, as passengers filled the vehicle.
in the end, sheer height and brawn of the older barker won, the driver giving him the reward for a full-jeepney-trip and not to the child who was there from the beginning until the end. i looked at the eyes of the child, and i was no longer sure anymore of his future.
15:08 | remember kismet
it was like how jack dawson described it, the cold water, i mean, being like a thousand knives stabbing me all over my body. i can't breathe. i can't think. but then that is how it was supposed to be.
i had become deaf actually. i wish i had been deaf all my life. i wish i had been "special" and then receive attention for being "special." but i know had i been deaf or "special"--or mute, for that matter--our dots-then-lines crossing would have been impossible. i heard you, unfortunately.
it seemed like a prayer more than anything. and i, a lesser god, an infinitesimal being compared with your divinity, have been humbled to the roots of the earth.
whispers, hurt yet firm, yet still soft, flowed naturally, like Buddha praying, like rain falling, from the bosom of emotions, where everything starts--and will end. but i had become deaf. cold water, cold as that from Chippewa Falls during the coldest winter, flooded my inner being, rampaging, making anything--everything--it passed-kissed still, then hurt, then numb--as how it was supposed to be.
from the depths of nothingness i suddenly smelled the sweetest camachile, that which only suffuses the air after light drizzles. i remembered how i was as a child, how i used to hunt bubuli with my cousins, how everything seemed simpler, more mundane. then i remembered how we were before--but more importantly after--the great flood.
there was no way to communicate, except dreams perhaps. but neither of us descended from the line of Morpheus, thus have to content our selves with what is, and think of what could have been had we crossed a different path, or offered kinder prayers, or offered devotion to another god.
i would still recite my prayers with you. just say the words and i shall be healed.
i love you, too.
14:29 | third
i sat with third today on the front steps of an old building along tree-lined amorsolo. we just sat there, just looking at the passers by, just waiting for something, anything to come about. but time passed and nothing happened. i started to fidget. third looked at me with an ugly smirk on his face, but i did not care. my hands slid inside my pants' back pockets to check if someone left a stick for me to smoke december's chill away. unfortunately noone did.
five? eight? seventeen? thirty-eight? i cannot remember how many minutes--or hours--had passed before i noticed that third was gone. i must be in such a stupor to have not felt time passing, and him leaving, me behind. feeling something is missing, i quickly gathered my things, and walked to the nearest bus stop. i sat with third today, my mind was repeating over and over thirty times until my shadows faded into the night.
