Just a Sunday morning reflection. Continue reading
Just another poem to vent out some of soul sediments. Continue reading
It was supposed to be a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly, the bitterness of black coffee tasted just right, few people strolled the park. It was a relatively quiet morning. She seemed relatively happy that morning.
It wasn’t until after almost half an hour of her silence that I noticed something was wrong.
“What’s up?” I asked as casually as I could.
Nothing, she said almost inaudibly. Nothing you could do or help me with, my anxiety translated for me. I stared at her, worried— concerned, not as much for her as it was for me. But it was a wonderful day.
And then, a horrible night. Continue reading
My personal humble tribute to all the struggling street peddlers of romantic gestures during Valentines Day. Continue reading
I stared at the ceiling. I like looking at the little holes— a corkboard sky of inverted starlights, office dust for phosphenes; and on rare occasions, wayward ceiling debris fall like shooting stars.
But what I really like about staring at the ceiling is how everyone becomes a bit more hesitant to approach me. This illusion of thinking, of introspection, of go-away-I-need-some-space not-so-universal gesture we make when we tilt our heads up and get lost, making them wonder what on Earth are we looking at up there. Or maybe not.
Clickety-clackety-cluck, goes the dulled rhythm of several keyboards being tapped, dissonant melodies of a clockwork office routine. Sometimes, an officemate murmurs to someone else; at times, they talk loudly. Too loudly. Cubicle discussions turning into impromptu conferences; but on good days, it does turn into a welcome flash mob of gags and jokes and random angst-turned-into-humor sessions.
On bad days, there’s just silence. No, not peace; just impassive, stoic silence. Continue reading
I just watched Martin Scorsese’s Silence (2016), and it inspired me to write this: