and if life has failed you, leave the cross you're nailed to

got lost

got lost

I got lost. I was looking for you and I got lost. I was looking for your reflections, even for your shadows during dusk. And I thought I saw a glimmer of your light and so I followed it through the shades and streets. I got carried away by the music and the waters and the clouds covered the beacon stars and I got lost. Then, waking to a dream, I saw you with your squinty eyes and mischievous smile, and you led me back.

I didn’t want to wake up.

 

in passing

IMG_6665

 

She walks in with a deeply thoughtful face like she was carrying half of the world’s pains and sadness. She sits at the far end of the table, closes her eyes and gives a long sigh. She opens her eyes just as the waitress is placing a cold glass of water in front of her. She tries to stare down the glass like some pet. She finally notices me staring. She offers a faint smile of acknowledgement and brings out a familiar book — The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy.

I have the same book in my backpack.

The heart skips a beat and I take a quick deep breath. She notices me looking at her book and slightly raises her eyebrows in question. I take out my well-worn and dog-eared copy of the book and show it to her. She flashes a wide and surprised smile. She looks at me. From across the table I see can her attempting to read me. I look back, matching her stare. Black eyes. Wide eyes. Beautiful eyes.

She finally looks away and stares back at her glass of water. She gives out a sigh that sounded like infinite relief. She closes her eyes, relaxes her shoulders, and slowly sits back in her chair. I keep staring at her closed eyes. At her. I finally notice my heart racing like tomorrow will never come.

I was still looking at her when she opens her eyes and looks at me with tenderness like I’ve never known tenderness before. Then the tenderness is slowly replaced by sadness. She closed her eyes once more, gathered her things and stood up to leave. She walks slowly towards my side of the table and stops in front of me . With a wane smile she reaches out to my arm and give it a soft squeeze that felt infinitely familiar.

I belatedly notice the gold band around her finger as I watch the love of this life reluctantly walk out the door.

[ written at The Curator, 26 June 2015 ]

 

would have

would have

It would have been fun getting to know you. I imagine new cafés with long, lazy and happy conversations, easy walks on late afternoons. Never hurried, never rushed because brilliant discoveries always take their time. And you would have been a brilliant discovery.

photo from March 2015, Bataan

 

lost conversations

Lost Conversations

Words float across the table. Kind words rarely harsh words. Stories of the moment, of forever, of now. The stories change and grow and evolve over time. With fingers entwined across the table sending words of tenderness, telling stories of affection. There are also words of quiet comfort, silent words of familiarity. And then there is this. Lost words. Silent tales. Conversations we will never have. Hidden across the table are our lost conversations.

Photo from March 2015

 

Again, it’s the content.

Again, its the content.I have posted this a couple of times before that I feel I’m preaching already — people go to websites for its content, how the website looks or presents itself comes in second. When I read a post on a site I would remember what it said a few weeks or months from now. I will vaguely remember how the page looked but I would remember its message. Some people still don’t get it.

“at the end of the day, its doesn’t really matter if this picture is higher by 2 millimeters from the top of text column beside it. what matters is that they saw the picture and was able to read what you have to say.”

“you don’t eat the container. you eat the ice cream”, raising her pint.

If you want to read the whole post follow this link.

Now, where’s my rum raisin …

 

too early one morning

when you find magic you hold on to it for as long as you can, for as long as it allows you to. so hang the feathers along with the twinkly stars and the white flowers, pour the wine and listen to the conversation and the music, brush her skin and hold her hand or just hold her. let the moment stay. let yourself be content. allow yourself to be happy.

— the song is blood by the middle east, the video is of james and aubrey tying the knot, real life.

James and Aubrey from Geoff Boothby on Vimeo.

conversations .1

conversations .1

There. Do you see it?” He just stood up from bed and was looking out to sea. The sun was already low on the horizon and was hidden by clouds.

See what?“, she asked as she raised her head from the pillows. She was looking at him, at his eyes staring at something in the distance.

Our path.“, he whispered with a slight smile.

She squinted at him for a moment, “Will we be happy?

His smile became wider, “Yes.

Then come back to sleep.

 (the photo was taken in Batac, Bataan, 23rd of May 2015)

A Familiar View

ayala

I have been quite preoccupied from this vantage point for nearly two weeks now and I find that I have lesser time for other pursuits. Nevertheless, I will honor the other things that I have committed to. It will just take a little more time as I gladly accept this new and exciting challenge. ^_^

 

not visiting javascript sites

javascript site

I am a trusting person by nature but I have become paranoid over time because of what the things I’ve seen. When I encounter websites like the one above alarm bells in my head start clanging and the spider sense starts tingling and I move on to friendlier sites. You see, javascript have been used to deliver malware or redirect you to a site that has malware in the past so I installed a browser plugin that, by default, prevents any javascript from loading and therefore prevent it from running on my browser.

Web developers shouldn’t really make sites that depend too much on scripts in order to be usable or in this case, viewable. A site should be able to stand alone using HTML and CSS. The rest is just icing.

 

locket

I place you in cared silver
Sealed it with a tear and a prayer
Chain it to my promise
And wear it like a kiss

April 2015

 

bisikleta

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