*
–
There was one particular moment when my brothers and me watched Spirited Away. Miyazaki has this way of making my mind wander and get lost. For a couple of hours, I fancied all the flying and the magic captured in the form of cinema…I was there, running wild in a land of spirits and odd-looking creatures. Then, I went outside… from where I stood I saw the skies rolled gracefully like I’ve never seen it before… with splashes of beauty that I can never describe even if I still have a vivid picture inside my head now. Standing in between a moment that separated the fanciest kind of fiction and the most beautiful mundane bit of nature was intense.
By far, that was one of the most bizarre moments I have as a human.
And there are thousands more… that I cannot write about
especially with all these people that I have met
in some places that are
still existent and
some places that are found somewhere
between nostalgia
and the soul.
.
*
daydreams
one day, we will achieve more sustainability. it is because though we like giving gifts to kids on Decembers, we want to share more. not just to give pencils and toys but to give education and joy. we dream of more participative youth.not scared to show their passions without closing their hearts and minds for new ideas and respect. we dream of staying as an inspiring group of young people in the community. not dwelling in our ideologies but finding venues and forms of letting others know what our causes are. imparting to them why these are valuable to us and influencing them to take part or welcome good change.
serendipity
there was no sea that time. but the shades of the sky was like this…only a little lighter. they stood like checkered and floral garments hanging free in the middle of the lush (but that time, there were no greens..just busy [pretending to be] people in the balcony). there was a comfortable silence. a really long one. a photo was taken. it was a silhouette shot and one of them believed it was interesting. and there was silence again. a comfortable one. and after a short pause, they talked about a tid-bit of the future. it was easy. they breathed in the dusk for the last time, walked quietly one ahead the other. each thinking of how serindipitous a moment in a life can be. but they never talked out loud. like the dusk. it passes by in silence and everyone talks about the night. (maybe sometimes, something like a beautiful accidental discovery of something more than the ordinary happens in a dusk and no one’s watching).
magic
she gave him a book. something she found from the house of her grandmother who died last summer. at the last page she wrote something like… Dear Soulmate, (message here) and a salutation— your island girl, (her name here). he gave her an old photo of them taken last summer. it was in sepia, a Polaroid-ish capture. at the bottom, his handwritten word—Soulmates. from an envelope he got a handmade necklace. an island shell pendant.
“…that island was magic. you are too.”
-
*
i will never be successful in trapping immense beauty. most of the time, i just let every moment swallow me. it has been like that since i was a little girl. from tree-swaying-watching outside the classrooms, humming while walking in an unfamiliar street, inhaling spaces while passing by bridges… the list can go on until you get exhausted. it has been both a power and a HUGE vulnerable spot for me. i ache for little details. i miss everyone, everything, every piece of life… in one entire solitude, sometimes.
if there are captures i want to share here, it’s because they will tell you what/who linger in my soul after being able to float somewhere and hopefully, these tiny bare toes left some ripples…
because on the other hand, they all did. they all do. unstolen.
i expect a lot of architecture. and yes, every old building spoke to me in so many ways. BUT, let me tell you this, I fell in-love with this certain morning after a week of grey.
the FNF program was intensive and nourishing. there in that little shed, i usually took some minutes being alone or with the company of a cup of hot tea. until now, the kind of peace i get is still vivid in my heart.
ah, beautiful, rosy-cheeked kids everywhere…giving away sincere smiles at me
a long beautiful evening walk with new friends Reinna, Niel and Lasse in Dresden. for some hours, it was one of the funniest times i spent with strangers. it is so special.
quenching my thirst for street artists and street performers. i want to be one even for a single shot…someday
him, soul friend, B. road trips and roadless trips. and every single moment, quiet or loud.
beyond captures, beyond chronicles.
the summer girl surviving the cold German autumn. her in Berlin. her grabbing that grace period of 5 minutes just to claim that she was able to make it in one of her “dream” destinations. what a pity *winks*
*
*
*
it was unexpected. but since dreams (dreams when we sleep, daydreams and waking dreams) do come true, no matter how we tuck them in between the depth of the soul— i arrived there with a backpack bigger than me and a pair of hopeful eyes. there were fallen leaves everywhere. the trees were naked like beautiful anorexia. the cold, damp and grey weather gave me a certain kind of peace. romantically speaking, it was this kind which poets write about (when they were still alive and barefooted). what i love about Germany are all those balconies with potted flowers, dark corners with parked bicycles, tiny shops full of teacups and vintage cameras, delicious breakfasts, long walks across bridges and the architecture of random people when they smile (and) all the while i was warned that they could be very cold and grumpy.
i was there for a free opportunity to represent Singgit Sirkulo and the Philippines. of course, special thanks to the International Academy for Leadership. after a month-long of online discussions, tests and essay writing, i was already excited to meet the other youth leaders who qualified as well.
hues. differences. friendly debates. unraveling of stories. downpour of youthful passion to lead and to make a difference. the program allowed us to exchange, learn and grow. after the sessions, we wore our skin and enjoyed being young by being carefree and by dancing the night away. the intimidation that was with me fell down bit by bit as days rolled. in no time, i was able to find new friends that i am looking forward to meet again, in time.diversity has always been a fascination of mine. it knits spirits and always leaves me with the thought that no geography stops humanity from finding out similarities. these similarities when discovered can even open gateways to education, linkages and bonds. there were so many parallels. some made me smile, some made me accept the fact that people are strange (in their special ways). most of them, i took in and respected.
writing this now makes me miss the very moment when i wake up and gaze outside my window in Theodore Heuss Akademie. from where i stood, i’d freeze minutes and just stare at the still heavy clouds, the maple leaves wanting to fall but denying gravity and the thought of sitting there in my chair listening to different accents, being stirred and being invited to express your thoughts,
share your time and experience
and just
smile when the English-Spanish translation is a bit offbeat.
*
*
are you a firefly in someone else’s sky?
he spends his days chasing seagulls and singing to the songs in his headphones. he dances when he should be working and works when he should be laughing, but his eyes are the same shade as his hair in the morning and he knows who he is. he knows that rain is cliched but he doesn’t want it for love or dancing or sorrow, he wants it for the way it flattens the clothes to his skin and the way it makes the leaves vibrant against withered clouds. he thinks in poetry and dreams in black and white, but he speaks of hope even though he knows how messed up the world is. he is still waiting for his second chance; he is still waiting for a reason; he is still waiting for someone to prove him wrong.
—-
she wears long skirts and ribbons in her hair, and smiles because she knows it makes them happy. but she feels more deeply than anyone knows and sometimes she can’t understand why the world insists on turning. she soaks up rainwater through porous skin, but she loves the sun because it can be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. no, no: sometimes she hates the sun. she hates it because it is too much like herself, stuck in the same spot seeing the same things, stuck too far away to touch. alone, she touches the coarse spines of books, but they do not touch her back, they do not whisper small words in her ears. she is still waiting for the hand that grabs hers; she is still waiting to see more than specks of life in the darkness; she is still waiting for someone to prove her right.
*
*
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-
