I must apologize for boring you to death with this drab backyard background, but my photographers are more at ease taking pictures in our private space.
Against a firewall painted pink with cracks in the concrete and fresher cement that dripped from the neighbor’s new apartment for rent nearly complete!
I decided on a red and blue theme early in the week, to mark the US president’s visit to the country and to stress that, even if Filipinos here and abroad make a big fuss about independence day celebrations, we as a nation are far from being free.
Come to think of it, the blue Pacific of the flag should never have taken its place over the red of fire and blood. More lives, up to this day, are being shed for true and lasting sovereignty.
Red is also the color of Labor Day, celebrated on this sweltering Thursday, which sees the masses tirelessly take to the streets to fight for the rights of workers and peasants.
The heat may be dizzying, but the people’s vision remains ever sharp.
I know, it doesn’t makes sense to wear a jacket out in the heat (see sweat marks below), but I just thought of easing the tension between red and blue with gray.
Red leaves from tamarind trees seem more apt under the beak of the dove.
There is a reason why the bark of our tamarinds appear slightly charred.
Ate Lalin decided on lighting a pyre out of the dried leaves, which seems now more of a mistake since it made the weather even more unbearable.
The leaves of the sampaloc and avocado dried up in despair. Sap oozed from the bark in protest.
There was once a time when I wasn’t as prissy with my shoes, walking long distances. Chanting slogans.
There will be a time again for such jests, after I am through learning to take better care of myself. Not to mention my finances.
But the fire in one’s heart hardly ever dies down once lit.
Even if no red or orange tongues flick.
At the moment, under the pacific of waves (not to mention the pretentious mantle of gray): blue flames lie in wait.
One by one, unnecessary things will be thrown to the blaze.
The gaze will be sharpened.
Rusty metal returned to kiln.
Fed by gray ashes.
As I write this, I hear the familiar tune of ice cream peddled in the street.
While I yearn for some refreshment, it must be time to avoid the sticky and the sweet.
There is work to be done.
Woods to be cleared.
Words to be cleaned.
Time for another shower!
The fatal hour has passed. Time to feed the fire.