Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Bloodless thorns

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No, this post is not about repentance or contrition.


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Neither does it tackle any post-Edsa politics, which includes the bungling of the economy or foreign relations both by the former senator’s widow or his unfortunately named son, who is the country’s current president.


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This post is simply about a slice from last weekend.


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A glimpse of sky, a chance to wear shorts and candy-red espadrilles.


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How I lost track of time, literally and figuratively – literally because the battery of the watch I usually wear drained out and figuratively because I returned to an old ukay (thrift store) haunt, where I went crazy over Japanese houseware and discovered my watch wasn’t working properly a bit too late.


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But before I get to that, a brief note on Saturday shoes: one really can’t help but get lost in the hours when wearing espadrilles, especially since it was the first time I used this red pair to walk a significant distance: over dead leaves, new asphalt, and the gravelly path of road that was half-finished.


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Need I say that this post is about shadows and the passing of time?


Polo shirt, Bench
Shorts, Perry Ellis
Belt from an Italian market
Espadrilles from La Rioja, Spain via Aldevinco, Davao
Stainless steel watch, Tissot
Shoulder bag (below), American Eagle Outfitters
Sunglasses thrifted from Chatuchak, Bangkok


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Back to the thrift store on J. Victor Street: I was so preoccupied looking through and setting aside rice and soup bowls, teapots, vases, and plates that I didn’t notice the hands of my watch weren’t budging beyond 2:30pm. Even if it was already getting dark.


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Like these red bell blooms in our garden, after realizing I had little time left in the day, I suddenly felt the strain of my efforts and grew tired.


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All along, I thought I was happily playing – reacquainting myself with this little hole-in-the-wall store that I last visited years ago.


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After the timely realization, I was left staring at my loot, half-questioning my judgement. Did I really need that many bowls? (No matter that they were a steal for, at most, P50-P75 each.)


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I suddenly felt the guilt of a reprimanded child who was told he had had too much fun. By the time I left, the sun was out.


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Besides missing the spent cash, I missed the boyfie who I was usually with on weekends.


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I missed him sorely.


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Of course, I immediately called him once I got back home. And like a child who had visited the circus for the first time, I went on and on about the colors I saw. The beautiful things I held. How we would dine together once he got back.


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Both of us yearning for each other’s more intimate presence.


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