Lazy Days

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Jenny wakes up at six in the morning

Stares at the blue sky above

Closes her eyes and goes back to her dreams

She is safe, she feels safe

Half past six in the morning

She feels the sting from the burning sun

It’s time to work, time to walk

She taps her skirt to straighten it

“I’m ready.”

The roads are filled today

Busy as always, she thought

The horns erupting from here ’til the end

Drivers shouting everywhere

“Roads are closed ahead. Alternate routes.”

Jenny smiles.

Early OT for her work

She walks near a black SUV

Knocks on the window

Waits for the response

Knocks again. Quiet.

“The third’s the last.”

None.

Empty hand

Empty stomach

It’s eight and she got four pesos in her hand

The traffic jam is gone

She walks to another street

Ignoring some shadows talking

“Her parents must be lazy”

“How could they let her find money for them”

“Such a pity”

Jenny walks

Squeezing the 10 pesos

It’s nine-thirty.

Empty stomach

Empty streets

Jenny’s lazy parents,

as the shadows said,

Are lying still under

some burned woods behind

The slums were burned the other night

Twenty more families fled,

many children left

Some were kept under the rubble.

She feels safe,

abandoned.

Safe is a lie.

She’s eight and it’s her first day of work

She got 10 pesos, but left alone in this world.

Books for November

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This month I surely enjoyed the pleasure of buying these hard-to-find books. ^^

This serves as my early Christmas gift for myself . Unless, other wonderful books or some great planner come along later this month.

JpegMost of these books I remember from my childhood. I mostly remember them through movies which I think I had seen in VHS (Video Home System) tapes. Most probably many younger people now are not even familiar with that system. Well, that was my memory before the rise of CDs, DVDs, and of course the torrent generation. 😉

It was worth finding these books and reminiscing the happy years. I cannot believe that my book collection is really starting to grow. I actually had other purchases from book sales last August and September. Well, this hobby is definitely a hard one to outgrow.

Books! Books! Books!

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Books that I got for the months of August and September. All from sale and from second-hand bookstores. I got all these books for roughly Php 1,200. This really made me a happy lady. ^^

Red (Final)

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That was the only time I felt that someone cared. I felt comfortable, safe, and I was not scared anymore. So when my heart started functioning again, I reflected the purple, pink, and blue hues of my youth. Then I had the courage to open my eyes and finally thank the person who rescued me from this insanity. But it was my lost, for someone was no longer in sight. To my amazement, I was only hugging an empty space between my arms.

A tear fell.

Body moved.

Tiny steps danced.

A river of blood was everywhere.

*** ***

Eyes.

Brown. Blue. Black. Gray. Hazel.

Eyes shut close, rusting nails pounding. Blood flows.

Cheeks were warm and I saw the beauty as before but redder than the rose.

*** ***

Fingers. Nails.

Screeching sounds.

Blood.

Fingers. Nails, no more.

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Red (Part 4)

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That was the reason why I liked that room. I felt the need to see those shades and feel the happiness of dreaming. In a world where I never grew tired, I still hoped of seeing my dreams come alive. That world of dreams was the only escape I had to empower my solidarity and to rule a word that I once tried to produce myself. Though it was also a place of ironies because even as it presented itself as a place of my rule over my own world, it also had its own rule of presenting the sequence of events and it was never my call.

*** ***

Fingers. Nails.

Screeching sounds.

Blood.

Fingers. Nails, no more.

*** ***

Eyes.

Brown. Blue. Black. Gray. Hazel.

Eyes shut close, rusting nails pounding. Blood flows.

Cheeks were warm and I saw the beauty as before but redder than the rose.

*** *** Continue reading

Red (Part 3)

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My nails were left on the floor covered with blood. I saw the way I tried to put my nails back on my fingers. For the first time, I thought I heard a sound. The screeching sounds of my nails touching the stone walls. But in the end, it was just my thoughts of a screeching sound. Everything still did not have any sound. I just felt that the gestures I did might have produced such horrible sounds. The nails were never that clean as before. Disappointed.

I was not me. Yet I knew that I loved me. I saw a one way mirror hanging on the closed room. There was an empty table at the other room, just waiting there diagonally placed near the mirror. I was too happy that I knew no one would see me from across. I made my eyes explore along the dimensions of the room from behind the mirror. There was an empty white cup on the floor, no dust yet no coffee. In this place, I saw an assurance of solitude. It was not that bad at all. There were still my favorite stairs, built on every side and corner of the room. I could go anywhere I want, either upstairs, downstairs, sidestairs, crossstairs, upsidedownstairs, anywhere. But there was that difficulty of going upstairs. I felt like I was not walking but instead I was crawling my way up. Going downstairs was the best. I just fell right to the center and still stand upright. Until someone lit a fire and all the stairs started to break that they fell and opened along empty corridors.

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