12:54

12:54 PM
Sunday
Inky black sky illuminated by a great fire in one area in Manila
27   ˚C⎜ ˚F
Precipitation: 10%
Humidity: 77%
Wind: 0 km/h


And the city with a foreign new monsoon
Licks everything with its tongue
With souls like phantoms
Haunting the streets
Burdened with feelings
With hands in their pockets
Or with their eyes empty
The night gives in
Corrodes into history
Little emotions evaporating
Condensing into dews
Off to the urban sewerage 
Hoping for absolution
Maybe a vindication
As it flows into the feet
A froth for a blanket
Into the navel and bed
Of an ocean somewhere.  

5:03

5:03 PM

Monday

Ash blue sky

29 ˚C ⎜˚F

Precipitation: 10%

Humidity: 78%
Wind: 18km/h

4:29

4:29PM

Monday

Ash blue sky

29 ˚C ⎜ ˚F

Precipitation: 10%

Humidity: 78%

WInd: 18km/h

Once, I was on my way home from a very long day at work walking to the train station. And I was thinking maybe I needed a trip, to take a chance and just go somewhere that is completely beyond my comfort zone, beyond my plans, and my usually programmed itinerary in life. I should maybe pack light, armed with just some few bills and my passport, and two books. Life can be easy and spontaneous.

As I was thinking about that, I realized that I was already on the platform of the station. And I looked up and saw from the digital schedule board that the next train is arriving in the next five minutes.

I spent that good five minutes watching people starting to build up on the platform. Some were old, some young, some were chatting, and some were quiet and distant but everyone looked tired. I checked my watch and it was almost 10PM.

“What’s the time?”

Beside me was a man of about late 20s. He was wearing a wool trench, a thick scarf wrapped around his neck, and the February frost made his cheeks unbelievably pink.

“What’s the time?” He asked again smiling.

“It’s five minutes before ten,” I said.

He remained quiet beside me after that, his hands in his pockets. And in my mind I was imagining that I was talking to him. Asking him where he’s headed, and what sort of beer he drinks in a pub on a Friday night.  It was quiet but I can hear the want to break that silence. But just as I was about to say a word to him, the headlights of a train shone on the tracks and people started backing off from the platform. It wasn’t my train yet but the gentleman beside me moved closer to the platform. And as the train was losing its momentum and about to stop, he turned to me and said,

“Are you coming?”

A question I wasn’t prepared to hear and so to which I answered,

“It’s not my train yet unfortunately.”

He replied with a smile and he went on to proceed and stepped inside the train. He stood right in front of me where I was standing. A thin glass separated us, some sheets of metal, which we call a mechanical door.

He smiled.

The train is going opposite my destination. Should I just step in and be spontaneous? Or should I stay and wait for my train, head home, cook soup, smoke some cigarettes, set the alarm at 6am and sleep?

“Have a good night.” I said.

Doors closed, the train started to move and I saw him tilt his head to look at me one last time. And then all I saw was a blur of a train being swallowed into the tunnel.

I felt the air, moist and static, the same feeling you get before the snow falls.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I’ve been to Tokyo and London and one thing I noticed is the efficiency of their public transportation system. The trains in Tokyo and the buses in London always arrive and leave on time. I guess people are like that. They arrive in a specific moment in our lives and then eventually after staying for some time, they had to leave. So we always have to appreciate them, and tell them what we feel. Because love, love is like a train or a bus that would open its doors to you waiting for you to step in. So if you love someone, tell the person right at that moment because love is that cruel bus or train operator that’s always on a schedule, they’d shut the door right on your face if you fail to step inside. 

2:18

2:18 AM

Thursday

Heavy Rain and Lightning

24 ˚C ⎜˚F

Precipitation: 10%

Humidity: 100%

Wind: 8km/h

1:51

1:51 AM

Thursday
26 ˚C⎜˚F
Light rain
Precipitation: 10%
Humidity: 100%
Wind: 8km/h

Dexter:

Suppose you kept going another 18 billion light years, what if there's nothing out there? Suppose you kept going another trillion times further, so far out you see nothing. The light from the universe would be fainter than the faintest star. Infinitely cold. Infinitely dark. Sometimes if I wake up and it's dark, I get really scared, like I'm out there and I'm never coming back. 

 Eric: 

Here, hold onto this when you sleep. And if you wake up and you're scared, you'll say, 'Wait a minute. I'm holding Eric's shoe. Why the hell would I be holding some smelly basketball shoe a trillion light years from the universe? I must be here on earth, safe in my sleeping bag, and Eric must be close by.

The Cure, 1995

2:14

2:14 AM

Sunday
28 C/F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 74%
Wind: 11 km/h



- Choose a person you see frequently, not too often but approximately once a week or once a month.

- Every time you meet the person you press your two pointing fingers firmly against your eyes for ten to twenty seconds until various colors and patterns arise.

-Try to note and memorize the patterns and colors in connection with the context and repeat the practice every time you meet the person for as long as possible minimum of six months.

- After a minimum of six months of this practice you can recall the person, virtually by pressing your eyes for a while. In the midst of colors and patterns a sense of presence of that person arrives even if the person is not there.

1:56

1:56 AM

Sunday
28 C/F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 74%
Wind: 11 km/h



Men who smoke.

"At long last I am able to say a few words of my own. You must believe me when I tell you that I have found it impossible to carry the heavy burden of responsibility and to discharge my duties as King as I would wish to do without the help and support of the woman I love." 

Edward III

1894 - 1972

King of United Kingdom before abdicating to marry Wallis Simpson

Duke of Windsor

Prince of Wales 

1:41

1:41 AM

Sunday
28 C/F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 74%
Wind: 11 km/h



Women who smoke.

"Murder scenes should be shot like love scenes and love scenes like murder scenes."

Grace Kelly

1929 - 1982

Princess of Monaco
Actress

11:07

11:07

29 C/F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 70%
Wind: 19 km/h



A conversation in the car on a hot April evening.

"You're a terrible driver," I said to mock him. "Either you be more careful, or you don't drive at all."

"I am careful."

"No, you're not."

"Well, other people are," he said lightly.

"What's that got to do with it?"

"They'll keep out of my way," he insisted. "It takes two to make an accident."

"What if you meet someone just as careless as yourself?"

"I hope I never will," he answered. "I hate careless people. That's why I like you."

10:50

10:50

33 C/F
Partly Cloudy


Men who smoke.

"I put my heart and my soul into my work and have lost my mind in the process."

Vincent Van Gogh

1853-1890

Painter

10:30

10:30

33 C/F
Partly Cloudy


Women who smoke.

"I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then i thought, there are so many people in the world. There must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed the same way I do. I would imagine her, and I imagine that she must be out there thinking of me too. Well, I hope that if you are out there and read this and know that, yes, it's true I'm here, and I'm just as strange as you."

Frida Kahlo

1907-1954

Painter

4:58

29 C/F
Precipitation: 10%
Humidity: 66%
Wind: 19 km/h


I am drugged
By the stars in your eyes
By the freckles on your skin
Like constellations under a telescope
A vast of light particles
On the surface of the ocean
With your hair like the froth
Tangled with the sea weeds
You walk by the shore
The pavements of the city
Without the sand
You leave your footprints
Invisible yet felt
You are carried away
By the trains
The buses
By the wind
The smoke
From a chimney somewhere
Lost in your own map
A nomad in your emotions
And on the pages of your blue book

4:58

5:14

31 C/F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 58%
Wind: 19 km/hour


Women who smoke.

"I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at that time. It expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past."

Virginia Woolf

1882-1941

Writer

5:09

31 C/F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 58%
Wind: 19 km/hour


Men who smoke.

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close."

Pablo Neruda

(Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto)

1904-1973

Poet, diplomat

15:26

9 °C|°F
Precipitation: 60%
Humidity: 100%
Wind: 4mph
Light rain




It has always been hard for me to leave.

After many years of traveling and making choices and paths, I am still in need to master the art of separation. I get easily attached to things, or people, or places. It is both a good and bad thing. But I never get that kind of attachment if there is no proper connection and spark of inspiration. These are the things needed to establish a pact. It is a bond that stays even though sometimes parting is expected and is bound to happen.

Today I am leaving London to go back to my home city. I know it will be just for a while as I am coming back, but the thought of missing the early days of spring is definitely gonna be missed. I would not see the city coming to life again after the winter. I would not see if the gray skies of London can actually stay blue for a whole day.

Don't you just wish sometimes to experience al the great yet simple things there is on earth? And if there is something at all on earth that you want to experience over and over again what would it be?

I have always been fascinated with sunsets. Even at a young age, I would climb to our roof just to get a glimpse of the sun setting. And I continued doing that even if I moved to the city. Right now, a sunset would be perfect. Not only it connotes a message of parting, but it as well promises that it would come back the next day, brighter or maybe even prettier.

I know someone who also loves watching the sunset. He loves it so much he saw it forty four times in one day!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 6

Oh Little Prince! Bit by bit I am able to understand the secrets of your sad little life....

For a long time you had found your little entertainment in the quiet pleasure of looking at the sunset. I learned that new detail on the morning of the fourth day when you said to me:

"I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go and look at a sunset now."

"But we must wait," I said.

"Wait for what?"

"For the sunset. We must wait until it is time."

At first you seemed to be very much surprised. And then you laughed to yourself. And said to me" 

"I am always thinking that I am home!" 

Just so. Everybody knows that when it is noon in the United States the sun is setting over France.

If you could fly to France in one minute, you could go straight into the sunset, right from noon. Unfortunately, France is too far for that. But on your tiny planet, my little prince, all you need to do is move your chair a few steps. You can see the day end and the twilight falling whenever you like...

"One day," you said to me, "I saw the sunset forty four times!"

And a little later you added,

"You know, one loves the sunset---when one is so sad..."

"Were you so sad, then," I asked, "on the day of the forty-four sunsets?"

But the little prince made no reply. 

15:39

13 °C|°F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 58%
Wind: 7mph
Clear



Opening the window and just listening to the early morning sounds of the city: 10 minutes

Having a breakfast: 15 minutes.

Looking for a missing lighter: 3 minutes

Lighting a cigarette with a match stick (1st attempt) : 5 seconds

Lighting a cigarette with a match stick (2nd attempt) : 4 seconds

Finally lighting a cigarette with a match stick: 3 seconds

Thinking and wondering while finishing a cigarette: 5 minutes

Deciding whether to use shampoo or body wash for my hair: 30 seconds

Taking a cold shower due to a broken boiler: 16 minutes

Dressing up: 5 minutes

Looking for a missing Oyster Card: 3 minutes

Deciding whether to use brogues or boots: 30 seconds

Coat caught in a loose nail by the door: 6 seconds

Walking to the bus stop at Elgin Crescent: 1 minute and 35 seconds

Waiting for bus 452: due

Bus 452: NOT IN SERVICE

Waiting for the next bus 452: 3 minutes

Second bus 452: NOT IN SERVICE

Waiting for the third bus 452: 4 minutes


And in that string of events, the minutes and seconds they led me to that very moment. Fate surprises. And chances are like rare stars which are sometimes hard to see in the night sky.

I'm in love with this city not because London is such a beautiful place. I guess I think, the reason is that this city is making me feel that it loves me too. That it can actually give a future for me. Sometimes it's the only thing that you need to know, if the feeling is mutual. Even in relationships, you tend to love even more if you feel that the other person is loving you back, or is holding on. Asking for signs can be sometimes ridiculous. Because you tend to see them even if they're not really there. You sometimes push your self mentally into over analysing things. But fate is different. It is a friend or a lover that surprises us, it's like the change in the wind that can remind us that seasons actually change or in my case this morning, fate could be a bus number 52.

7:07

2 °C|°F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 87%
Wind: 7mph
Rain



My most memorable moment of crying was when I was around four years old.

It was suposed to be my first day in school and my mother brought me to meet my teacher. And as I was waiting for them to finish talking, I was watching the other kids playing and seemingly well oriented with each other. I felt that it was another world where I would never fit in. And so when my mother went back and told me that she had to leave me the whole day with an old, stern looking lady and with the company of kids who were more active than me, I begged her to just take me home. My mother, being the most understanding woman that I know, did not ask me any questions and immediately took me home.

I knew that my father would be less understanding. So after he found out what happened, he gave me the beating that a four year old child would never forget. I cried for hours as I nursed the traces of whips on my skin. But it sure did make me stronger. The next day, I was back in the school, a place where I felt really alone for the first time.

It is weird because memories like that are so easy to share to other people, even to strangers at this point in my life. But it is so hard to actually have the courage to say what makes me cry now at my age. When you are a child, I guess crying is more of caused by a certain form of punishment inflicted by another person or by another thing. But now, as a mature individual, most of the time, crying can be caused by self inflicted emotional pain. Whether it's because of a disappointment that we blame on ourself, an unrequited love that we tend to keep, or the pressure of trying to continuously prove one's self to other people.

It is easier to cry as a child because we know for a fact that we have someone to blame for our tears. But as an adult, sometimes in a moment of grief, there is no one else to blame but our own self. Weeping became a symbol of a defeated ego, of weakness. And we are ashamed of this fact so we choose to hide.

When you cry so hard that it hurts your throat, it is out of frustration or of knowing that no matter what you do there is nothing that can really change the situation. And when you feel like you need to cry just to get it out and release the pressure from inside, that is true pain. Weeping on the other hand is even worse. Weeping takes your whole body and when it's over, you feel like there is no bones left to hold you up.

One time I was crying and weeping at the same time. It was terrible and embarrassing. I was on the floor and was pouring all my emotions out. And I asked the universe why it was happening to me. I was a mess. But after I almost poured every tear in my system, and got dehydrated, I got up, dressed up, and went to the nearest hardware store. In 30 minutes I was back in my apartment with 5 liters of paint. And as I was starting to get busy, I realised that whatever happens, life goes on and that crying is just another expression of being human.

And I realised that while I was lying on the marble floor and looking up ahead. No I didn't see the face of God. I saw the unfinished painting on my ceiling.

04:24

3 °C|°F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 75%
Wind: 5 mph
Mostly cloudy




It was raining.

I was rushing to get to the underground all bundled up and hoping not to freeze in the streets of London. I didn't bring an umbrella so when I was finally able to reach the station, I was all already drenched. I reached for a copy of Evening Standard stacked right at the entrance of the Barbican Station and headed to the platform.

I was waiting for the train. The circle line is known to be the slowest line in London. A 30 minute travel time can stretch to 40-45 minutes and sometimes even longer when there are unexpected interruptions along the way. I was heading to West of London. So from Barbican, it's quite a while before I reach home.

The train finally came after six minutes of waiting. There were a lot of empty seats in the train at that late hour in the evening. I took a seat in the far end of the carriage and opened the newspaper.

My face was covered between pages 4 and 5 when i felt like someone was looking at me. I folded the newspaper and saw a guy seated across me in the carriage.

He has dark hair, some freckles on his kind face, and his eyes are green, or maybe blue. He was wearing a white buttoned up shirt and he was reading a book.

He looked beautiful.

He seemed very focused on his reading so I watched him and I was trying to get a glimpse of the title of his book. And at one moment, he looked up and saw me.

I was shy then, so when he will look at me, I will look away. Then, afterwards, when I will look back, he will look away...

A few minutes passed, and I had to get off the train.

Got off, the doors closed.

And as the train was pulling away, he looked right at me, and gave me the most incredible smile.

It was awful.

I wanted to tear the doors open.

I thought he was cruel as I left the platform with a heavy heart.

Maybe it's true that strangers are just endearing because we don't know them yet. But It must also be true that meeting strangers can be just utterly meaningless. Unless of course if you are able to enter the individual's world and discover one thing that is special to him. That is enough I think for both of you to go in a mutual exchange of feelings.

Moments between strangers can be very brief but can sometimes last for a long time. I guess it's because sometimes, though it is hard to explain, we find comfort with strangers. Their anonymity is like the space that envelopes us. It is unknown and yet we find solace in it when we are alone. And so when a stranger looks at us or smiles at us, it's like finally meeting that quiet solace for the first time.

05:10

5 °C|°F

Precipitation: 50%

Humidity: 89%

Wind: 12 mph

Chance of rain

Women who smoke.

"I restore myself when I'm alone. I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so you can learn to let go. Things go wrong so you can appreciate them when they're right. You believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself. And sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."

Marilyn Monroe

(Norma Jeane Mortenson)

1926-1962

Actress, model, singer

04:52

5 °C|°F
Precipitation: 50%
Humidity: 8%
Wind: 12 mph
Chance of rain



Men who smoke.

"If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him"

John F. Kennedy

1917-1963

35th President of the United States

20:16

5 °C|°F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 94%
Wind: 12 mph
Mostly cloudy

The way the sun is right now, is the same way when I used to be with you. With the long shadows, and that kind of bright, soft light you get when the sun isn't quite setting.  That's the light that makes everything better, everything prettier, and today, everything just seemed to be in that light.

And in a matter of minutes, that moment will fade. It will gradually melt with the ripples of the river, and the clouds would disperse like milk dissolving in my coffee. The memory of you will once again embark a journey in my soul. And I will lay you the brick road, I shall light its way. And when it finally reaches the summit, it will jump and fly and evaporate with the winds of my thoughts, and it shall fall like a torrential rain, back to the mortal world.

Memories and moments give us dimensions. Like the sharp edges of rocks, branches, thorns, envelope corners, experiences can cut through us like a blade on a butter. But on the other hand, we are also granted the ability to see beyond that reality. We can transgress that idea and turn it into something that would regenerate us. And simple things, they can remind us of that truth. Trees would shed their old bark, grass grows again under the snow, and birds, start migrating again.

I watched the day fade. And the last light of this particular Monday ebbed away like a temporary pain. I look at the clock and it's still ticking. We are moving on, today has been good.

03:01

3 °C|°F
Precipitation: 20%
Humidity: 69%
Wind: 16 mph
Chance of rain


Women who smoke.

"If you don't wear lipstick I can't talk to you. You need to have lips. They are important for getting men." 

Isabela Blow

1958-2007

Editor, fashion icon

02:50

3 °C|°F
Precipitation: 20%
Humidity: 69%
Wind: 16 mph



Men who smoke.

"Give me time and I'll give you a revolution."

Alexander McQueen

1969-2010

Fashion designer

2:28

1 °C|°F

Precipitation: 0%

Humidity: 75%

Wind: 6 mph

You open your eyes and greet a new day. You ponder on things to do after getting up and you move on with the aim of going through that day as smooth as possible. There could be a schedule or there could be none. But the truth is, we all have a pattern to follow or do from the very second that we start our day.

But like a crack in a surface, at one point in that cycle, the idea of escaping loomed over your head already like nimbus cloud ready to pour. 

We've been all stuck somewhere before. We've been monotonous. We've been preordained. But as humans, deep inside our hearts is that insatiable hunger to break free. 

When I was a young boy, I was probably 9 when I realized that there is a world waiting for me out there. Beyond the borders of our lonely town, beyond the hills, and the rivers separating us from the capital. I remember that before, an aunt who lives in Manila would visit us every quarter of the year, and with her were boxes of donuts from the city. I can still remember the exact taste of those donuts. For me, it was the taste of a life beyond what I could imagine. Every bite filled my soul with the will to discover that world. 

My soul was filled with dreams and visions of adventure that when the time came, and I was ready, I took that leap of faith and traveled to a place that is a stranger to me. The lights of the city blinded me when I met Manila. The noise,music to my ears, and the concrete like a skin ready to be touched and discovered. I was very curious and very eager. And I was observant. But as time went by, when I felt that every move that I was doing started being repetitive, I got scared and I felt a hole in my heart again. I wanted more and I was afraid then that I was being impractical. At first I focused to be normal. I didn't know that I was trying to fight my dreams and my fate. I didn't know that I was silently dissolving away with the rest of what is static in the city.

I always hated looking at perfect things. A perfect porcelain, a perfect glass, a perfectly knotted necktie. It has a claustrophobic effect on me. I want to break things, then put them back together. I'm always craving for a diversion, surprises, new discoveries. Monotony kills me like a nail drilling in my freedom. 

I believe that we don't have to be afraid of freedom. Life is a very unstable element. And we don't have a control over it. Control is an illusion. We're all like glasses filled with water slowly evaporating into the thin air. Without any warning, our glasses could run dry, leaving you thirsty for life. That open door is for us, make that step. And after the adventure, you'll realize that it has given you not just freedom, but the wisdom and courage to stay and break the order. 

23:56

1 °C|°F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 70%
Wind: 8 mph



Women who smoke.

"It's the mistake you always make. Trying to love a wild thing. You mustn't give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get, until they're strong enough to run into the woods or to fly into a tree. And then to a higher tree and then to the sky."

Audrey Hepburn (Holly Golightly, Breakfast At Tiffany's)

1929-1993

Actress, humanitarian

23:21

1 °C|°F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 70%
Wind: 9mph



Men who smoke.

"Homosexuality is so much in fashion it no longer makes news. Like a large number of men, I, too, have had homosexual experiences and I am not ashamed. I haven never paid much attention to what people think about me. But if there is someone who is convinced that Jack Nicholson and I are lovers, may they continue to do so. I find it amusing." 

Marlon Brando
1924-2004

Actor, poet, activist

01:48

1 °C|°F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 56%
Wind: 9 mph




Silence gives me the ability to ponder on some things that are usually hidden by the everyday noise of the city.

Today, London granted me the chance to look back and remember where I came from.

From the time when I finally decided that I would ran away from home to fulfill a dream in the city, to a not so distant memory of friends' laughter and company. My life is an adventure in progress. I am in constant discovery everytime that I open my eyes to greet a new day.

I just graduated in college when I realized that life in the province was not the future that I am aiming for. Although I'm in love with the energy of nature, the hills, the brooks, the clear night sky illuminated by constellations and stars, and volcano (we live on the foot of a volcano), the calling of the city proved to be hard for me to resist. I have a very carefree spirit. Although people would see me as a quiet, wallflower type of a person, my heart is actually full of courage and the need to discover new things. I love learning things, seeing things, and listening to stories that cannot be found in the pages of books. My appetite for life is insatiable. But amidst those words, I remain very discreet about the yearnings of my soul. Growing up, I had the impression that dreams are just concepts conjured by an utopian mind.

A lot of times, specially back in the province where I grew up, travelling is just a dream. Being in a city like London or even in Manila is already considered a dream come true. It is both considered as an accomplishment and a blessing. For a lot of people  in our small town who heard about my sudden decision to elope with my dreams, my bold move was a curse. I heard soon after I left that people were disappointed by me, leaving my family like that and deciding to make such a bold decision. For a long time I felt that I made a wrong decision, but after a while i realized that I did not make that decision solely for myself. I understood that my life is also the life of other people connected to me. That if I stayed and didn't take that bus, fate would be interrupted and a dream waiting to be realized wouldn't come true. Now, in my heart, and I hope other people with souls speaking the same language of fate would understand, that there is nothing in this world that can be lonelier than the event of watching a dream slipping away.

Outside the window, the wind is freezing cold as it blows against brick walls, concrete pavements, and steel lamp posts. The temperature really cold, that you can almost see the dead branches of trees shivering. Everyday, before we sleep a dream is bound to start. But once we wake up in the morning, that is the time and our only chance to make that dream into a reality.

5:25

2 °C|°F

Precipitation: 0%

Humidity: 65%

Wind: 14 mph

They say that the best things in life are hard to anticipate, and even more to predict. They are like dreams. You dont know when they'll start but when they do, you'll just find yourself caught in the middle of it.

It can be both amazing and tragic at the same time. Being thrown into a labyrinth garden surely poses the possibility of seeing roses or dead ends along the path. 

Does love for example, takes us by surprise? Or is like a shadow creeping and closing in as the day starts to end? An emotion as strong as  love I believe is an instant feeling. And although others would contend that love can be learned while you're in the right situation with the right person, I still believe that it is a spark that can only happen once there is a union of familiar or sometimes weird interests. 

But should it actually start with all things that are beautiful? Sometimes, love can be determined by the unexpected presence of other emotions. It is not because one specific emotion isn't strong enough and then suddenly it turned into love. I want to believe that sometimes, some emotions are felt, directed by our minds to cloud a stronger feeling like love. When we deny to ourself that we love someone, we try to recreate another reality by producing another minor emotion to shield what we're actually feeling. It is fear sometimes, We'd rather shun away from the feeling and hide behind euphemisms. Sometimes it becomes too strong that we forget our real emotion and we turn away, we're hurt and we hate. 

When a dream is too good to let go, we'd rather stay in bed under the sheets. We'd rather skip the day and continue dreaming and it is acceptable. Why then in love we cannot do the same? Why can't we just stay with the emotion even if it's just a dream? If letting go is just an option, is it demeaning to stay in love even without the chances of waking up? 

One afternoon, I was under a shade of a tree in a park. And the emotion that I felt at that precise moment, as the light played on the leaves and branches was something that I would forever be aching to see again. It may be shallow,because I can always do the same thing, go to a park and sit under another tree and find that same experience again. But no, that moment is gone and I'll never be able to pull it back from that time. And the worse thing is, I was in a hurry and left that inimitable moment too soon. And so I think I'll never do that again. I will choose to fade with a moment.

 I will choose love. 

1:53

2 °C|°F
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 100%
Wind: 8 mph



Some of you are aware that I used to write a lot.

Everyday before I go to bed, I make sure that I leave a short poem for my friends on Facebook. But that stopped when I started running around trying to find something new that would excite me. Boredom kills me. I cannot be contained. It's true, sometimes I run away whenever I feel like everything seems to be too much for me. Back in the province I would sneak and climb our roof. I spent hours there writing and dreaming while I stare at the night sky. 

The kind of life that the city offered me is nothing but enlightening. It exposed me to the kind of knowledge that I have now. But although I was inspired by these places visually and mentally, it's always a simple haven like a tin rooftop that strengthened and taught my heart to dream and search for my destiny.

I try my best all the time to hold on to the kind of person that I used to be. And although sometimes without our knowledge, we are drifting from the simple yet good things that actually brought us to where we are right now, it is easy to go back by the simple way of remembering. 

I was reading a while ago from a pile of poems that I wrote before and I want to share this one again. This piece inspired me again not just to write but to dream and think of greater things. I guess when a moment so strong to avoid comes into your life, you should grab it and fall in love with it. Because it gives us the gravity that we need to find our own personal legend. 

I watched you finish a stick of cigarette

From the corner of my eye, I saw you puff

The smoke covering your face

Your hair, gray, under its illusion

Words failed to cross

they faded in the still air

Like the tobacco, turning to ash,

dark and then gone into the soil

This could be you leaving

Like the nicotine

tiny bits of you

into my own wind

you will again settle

like the invisible sediments

in my cup of water

8:16

23:55

4°C|°F
Precipitation: 20%
Humidity: 40%
Wind: 16 mph



Stared at the blank page like I just met a stranger. Transfixed into an empty space like looking at static signal only it was more quiet than me. 

Hello. 

I said as I light a cigarette. 

And as the first virgin smoke clouded my lungs, I can see it like a ghost reflected on its screen, vivid like crystal eyes. 

The page doesn't know every secret that I'm holding. Every word that I'm keeping.

But as its keys start to type away, clicking like a language only it can understand, It knows for a fact that it wont be long before every literature from my soul is recorded and kept within its memory.

In the old days, they say that if one has a secret that he doesn't want to share, he goes up in the mountain, chooses a tree and would carve a hole on its trunk. Only there he can whisper his secret and cover it with mud to preserve it forever. 

I climbed mountains, travelled miles, and crossed continents even. And I found this place. I'm carving a hole and would leave a part of me but I shall leave it open.

And so I make a pact with this stranger, as I try to remember what it felt like when I had my first cigarette. It will be my witness for every cigarette burnt because of literature. Consumed as I struggle to put into words emotions and ideas that can sometimes be volatile. And as I let go of that smoke, I really wish it would be a cloud, wandering with other clouds as it cruises in an open sky.