Thursday
morning. I woke up with a mental list of to-do’s. $*|?**$ visit to deliver IV
fluids. Get back to do the laundry. With my second to the last PUJ jibe, the
open doors of the church invited me in so the last two hours were spent hearing
the mass. At the middle of the Eucharistic celebration, the heavy downpour
added darkness to the dusk creeping in. Having waited for ten minutes more, I
decided to wade waters to get to the last jitney back to the doctor’s quarter.
(So this is Manila and its famous flood.) My feet getting cold with the pooling
of rainwater inside my shoes reminded me of laundry powder so I dropped by in a
mart for some. Finally with the nighttime shower done, I hanged the last piece
of the three-day soiled uniforms for air drying by the washroom. After hungry
tummy pacified… Oh zzz’s, come to thee…
My thoughts of the devilish and cherubic borne me a diarist. The usual norm: we all started on pencils and paper or the wall or the table with our sticks and loops overlapped and out of borders and lines. These doodles turned to syllables from printing vowels and consonants complicating to words, phrases and sentences. I soon graduated the writing drills of cursive being able to write more than to voice out to express myself. Find the me in this virtual world.
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