*
(something that happened this morning that you’re happy you did not photograph)
something like meeting an April morning in an island of Concepcion
—
(a thought while planting ornaments in pots)
“we are standing at the end of the world, lola.”
the fog will give you this sensation. at the end of the world, the cities will look like eroded maps. vague polka dots, irrevocably dead, plagued by millions of stars named by every lonely seafarer. your grandmother will hand you a mug of worms. her hands, a fusion of leper and clay.
“why did you choose to decay?”
at the end of the world, be sure to close your eyes a bit. you will see Asia. you will not see the Great Wall. you will see the first person you have saved. whatever the salvation is, it won’t matter.
but you will remember how it made you feel good about your self –that very moment. you will touch the person who made the greatest impact in your life and he/she will drink you up with his/her morning coffee powder. you will sit beside the first teacher who told you–you don’t have a future. you will see ghost-like silhouettes of street vendors and beggars. you will smell how humanity flourishes and fleets. and you are confused all those times.
at the end of the world, your body will feel like helium and the desert.
—
(spontaneous haiku before eating lunch)
She is beautiful.
The prostitute shaving her
1 P.M. armpit.
—
(a favorite subtle yet lingering moment in May)
he: that part (pointing at La Salette building) is the most beautiful street here so far. feels like Europe.
she: awwww. coincidentally, that happens to be my favorite street. i walk as slow as i can every time.
he and she: *no words just lucid eyes and summer night hugs*
—
(something you want to tell your younger sister)
thank you for all the ukay-ukay goodies. for being the gentle hands when im a wreck. for being a real person when it’s easier not to be one. for reminding me that once and for all, i deserve to be happy. for putting up with my quirk and for reiterating my dreams when im too hopeless to walk at the seams and breathe in. i believe in your heart. your fart sounds funkeh. i love you. so.
.
wew. nice one ^_^
link building ta manang tin: http://ryed.info/
Posted by ryan at July 14, 2010, 11:11 amhaayy, when can i write like this? when tinay, when? 
love it to bits!
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Posted by louis vuitton handbags 2010 at June 21, 2011, 8:40 pm
*
she likes seashore naps and the view of everything from the bus window. she likes tiny moments and the small spaces between faces when people talk.
sometimes, she wakes up to that odd feeling of being a fallen leaf, an old tree, an azotea or a waitress somewhere-- talking to a taxicab driver about that random song on the radio.
*
---
---
and this. a proof that:
how you see LIFE is how
you actually see YOUR self.
*
*
***
maddening spurt:
----------------------
“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”
-Jack Kerouac-
awww
and
some
; )
Posted by nincompoop at July 10, 2010, 11:50 pm