I sat on the east side of the jeepney this morning, the 8 o' clock rays bull's eyed on my nape and I closed my eyes to its mild hotness on my skin. Soon it felt like it was evaporing sweat I'd acquired in my sleep to the discomfort of the lady beside me. Apart from body odor and 24-hour old sebum on my face, I thought about a lot of things and realized I haven't been thinking about one particular thing. I grinned. I was glad I didn't have to torture myself that early in the morning, whereas I'd have sculpted another five-hundered-peso-bill-man with same melancholic yellowness for a face. I realized there was a certain entity that didn't live in that same house anymore or passed by that same street lined with trees and oh-so-beautifully-rich houses or rode on the same pedicabs to swim on that same pool. I realized I didn't know what to make of that and that it's 8 o' clock in the morning and I'm heading "home" and that I have to think of a sensible non-offensive reason why I didn't sleep at "home" last night. Chai got expelled from the Academy, she started texting us again last night too. Apparently, a lot of things started happening last night. Thunder and lightning and bullet-sized raindrops on a church with gay sacristans, smelly chicken and batchoy-wet bread teaching songs to my stomach, tears mixing on cheeks, two sets of shoes, black and white tapping on water-polished streets and an unsaid compromise between two broken, trapped souls in a room with a tomb. Super Perfundo.
