These pictures were taken last Wednesday, after the typhoon Rammasun (local name: Glenda) passed Metro Manila and headed north of the country. By this time the battery of both my phone and laptop had died and my only device that was working was my camera.
The drowsy sun had succeeded to clear fear in our hearts, but by then it was too late - the lights were still out and it was getting dark.
As many have said, it is during these times when we are cut off from technology that we are ironically able to reconnect – both with ourselves and with the people surrounding us. Some took a walk outside and around, while I read by the window.
And because the wind had passed and the quiet was a bit unsettling, my thoughts wandered.
Without the violence of horizontal rain, or crashing waves in the distance, only my pulse was left racing. The air cleansed, the creatures of my imagination and my ponderings poked their noses out of the woods and hedges from which they took refuge.
Now it was the prey of my reflection and self-criticism that needed hiding.
Jacket, Cornflake, thrifted
Boots, Dirk Bikkembergs
It is true, that in many ways, (as I have now and again repeated) it is more difficult to live during peacetime, when one’s enemy does not carry a flag or wear a uniform. During times when there are no calamities to battle. You know what they say about adversity…
As the night fell, I grew more and more helpless.
Walking through the candle-lit halls of the house, it wasn’t ghosts I was afraid of, but those red eyes that glowed.
Flashing fire of my own anger and frustration.
Angry at what? Oh, nothing serious. Just the usual things that get me into a tight knot and speechless fit.
Wasting time. Falling for my own lies. Yes, the usual.
The eyes were not carmine, or crimson.
They were vivid burgundy, like the color of my jeans.
Expressive, a bit light-headed. With only a slight trace of intoxication. Enough to heighten expression and remain effusive.
I’m getting old! What have I done with my life?
Yeah, the usual pedestrian questions that can no longer be enrolled in quarter-life crisis classes.
I have to hang on, and by golly, stick to the plan that I have rewritten and revised countless times.
I realize by this time, dear reader, that I may have already lost you. I promise to end soon.
Let this bull rant till all the smoke is released through its nose. No baring of teeth, of course.
Maybe I need to drink more chamomile. Hahaha! Or wine to soothe the nerves.
Thank you again for your patience. There, I’ve let the bull out. Soon I will demolish its cage and use the wood to build a house.