Ask no more.
Only listen to the sound of the trees
when no wind stirs.

train story

It's nothing really, you and I simultaneously entering the MRT. (a lot of other people do that, no cosmic energy brought us together, we come not by fate, but for sheer time-in checks, curfews or the urge to simply go somewhere.) I assume you are going somewhere. I am too, I just don't know yet where that is.

when I was a little girl in my fathers car, I would look out the window and say "the clouds are following us!" and my father, driving ever so steadily just rode along with that smirk on his face not even bothering to correct me. He simply mutters "then we have to go faster," and then we do, watching the clouds racing to catch us as the gauge reads the highest speed he could pull off without earning a speeding ticket. we were fast, and while I thought no policeman could get us, the clouds did. They always did.

(that was my father then. now you can give him a ticket for being the slowest driver in the whole of metro manila.)

I guess I never really grew out of that feeling. I ride trains and pretend that the city is moving, for the motion of this train is imperceptible; I - we - are suspended in this cubicle while right outside is the world speeding by. I suppose in a sense that is true also, everything about this train is suspended, while outside, eveything is in motion. Everything about this train is suspended, especially the people - it's amazing how close they get without even sharing the most fundamental things - like a word, or eye contact; we all stand so unimaginably close, this distance usually reserved for couples, or siamese twins, and then the minute we get off the train, we disappear forever, in each others lives just like that. Forget that we stood so close to a stranger enough to feel the heartbeat we never even knew.

like one person said: this has the makings of a sad story.

we leave the train. life resumes.

the clock that hung on my wall,

it started turning backwards, as though it always have. 12 - 11 - 10 - 9 - 8 - back it went. It was morning, and there I was, looking outside my window, at what was to me, the most interesting sunset.

and then my alarm starts ringing

and then I fell to the ceiling. my feet clung there, like some messed up gravity was tugging at my weight. (take that, Isaac Newton) I looked up, expecting the rest of my furniture to come crashing any minute, but they never did, it was just me. I fell to the ceiling and that's all there is to it.

I wondered, eyeing the glass. I looked at my eyes that looked at my eyes; I wondered, if my reflection is me. or if I am my reflection. If in this state of being upside down everything is changed. If everything is reversed, why do I still keep running? You would think, if you lose the chains, there would be no need to escape. I wonder. looking at the glass, if I am the one trapped in a mirror or if she is.

even the happiest people in the world still wear a frown. If you hang them upside down

still, there's the window: (here we go again) no more pixie-dusts this time, just the mere sight of that wide open window is comforting. I stood at the edge. This time, this leap of faith will not bring me crashing down down down, onto the hard ground. I fall, upwards, to the sky. (apparently in this alter-world gravitational law where in you never fall: you float.) If floating is just as fierce as falling, if floating means you still go nine point eight meters per second squared, the same acceleration as gravity, only upward.

but this leap of faith is one I have not yet taken, because the risks I take and the heights I brave are not inversely proportional to what I seek. and because it is much much easier, to watch everything from a distance.

then again maybe it wouldn't hurt as much - just in case the floating fails and I happen to land where the ground is hard and jagged rocks break my fall into a million pieces of crushed bones

when I came back, my reflection, she said: "the sexiest thing is trust" and that I was a big fat cow in thin girl's clothing. I was still thinking if she meant the opposite of what she said (because either way it would've made perfect sense)

I might as well be dreaming.
because I never fall. I float.

Still you'd think I have to wake up sometime.

Ask no more.
Only listen to the sound of the trees
when no wind stirs.

train story

It's nothing really, you and I simultaneously entering the MRT. (a lot of other people do that, no cosmic energy brought us together, we come not by fate, but for sheer time-in checks, curfews or the urge to simply go somewhere.) I assume you are going somewhere. I am too, I just don't know yet where that is.

when I was a little girl in my fathers car, I would look out the window and say "the clouds are following us!" and my father, driving ever so steadily just rode along with that smirk on his face not even bothering to correct me. He simply mutters "then we have to go faster," and then we do, watching the clouds racing to catch us as the gauge reads the highest speed he could pull off without earning a speeding ticket. we were fast, and while I thought no policeman could get us, the clouds did. They always did.

(that was my father then. now you can give him a ticket for being the slowest driver in the whole of metro manila.)

I guess I never really grew out of that feeling. I ride trains and pretend that the city is moving, for the motion of this train is imperceptible; I - we - are suspended in this cubicle while right outside is the world speeding by. I suppose in a sense that is true also, everything about this train is suspended, while outside, eveything is in motion. Everything about this train is suspended, especially the people - it's amazing how close they get without even sharing the most fundamental things - like a word, or eye contact; we all stand so unimaginably close, this distance usually reserved for couples, or siamese twins, and then the minute we get off the train, we disappear forever, in each others lives just like that. Forget that we stood so close to a stranger enough to feel the heartbeat we never even knew.

like one person said: this has the makings of a sad story.

we leave the train. life resumes.

the clock that hung on my wall,

it started turning backwards, as though it always have. 12 - 11 - 10 - 9 - 8 - back it went. It was morning, and there I was, looking outside my window, at what was to me, the most interesting sunset.

and then my alarm starts ringing

and then I fell to the ceiling. my feet clung there, like some messed up gravity was tugging at my weight. (take that, Isaac Newton) I looked up, expecting the rest of my furniture to come crashing any minute, but they never did, it was just me. I fell to the ceiling and that's all there is to it.

I wondered, eyeing the glass. I looked at my eyes that looked at my eyes; I wondered, if my reflection is me. or if I am my reflection. If in this state of being upside down everything is changed. If everything is reversed, why do I still keep running? You would think, if you lose the chains, there would be no need to escape. I wonder. looking at the glass, if I am the one trapped in a mirror or if she is.

even the happiest people in the world still wear a frown. If you hang them upside down

still, there's the window: (here we go again) no more pixie-dusts this time, just the mere sight of that wide open window is comforting. I stood at the edge. This time, this leap of faith will not bring me crashing down down down, onto the hard ground. I fall, upwards, to the sky. (apparently in this alter-world gravitational law where in you never fall: you float.) If floating is just as fierce as falling, if floating means you still go nine point eight meters per second squared, the same acceleration as gravity, only upward.

but this leap of faith is one I have not yet taken, because the risks I take and the heights I brave are not inversely proportional to what I seek. and because it is much much easier, to watch everything from a distance.

then again maybe it wouldn't hurt as much - just in case the floating fails and I happen to land where the ground is hard and jagged rocks break my fall into a million pieces of crushed bones

when I came back, my reflection, she said: "the sexiest thing is trust" and that I was a big fat cow in thin girl's clothing. I was still thinking if she meant the opposite of what she said (because either way it would've made perfect sense)

I might as well be dreaming.
because I never fall. I float.

Still you'd think I have to wake up sometime.