Eisa dalawa tatlo
Saturday, March 11, 2006
It's done... but not that well. At least we have something.
I am currently wearing a green t-shirt with 2 stars and the word "Caribbean Sunset" as its front print. Still, wearing it from the day's activities... No wonder, I can still smell the funk of Manila around my neck. My jeans, which I owned for almost 3 years now, served me well this afternoon, while we walk the lenght of Avenida. Rugby boys are like normal vendors selling sticky rum on the streets. Their eyes, deep shut. Their bodies, thin as a walking stick. This is my third time to go at the place where I'll be going. Everytime I climb its stairs, I always got these butterflies in my stomach. The eerieness of the building adds to the tension its visitors are possibly bearing. Breathing harder could help... as mush as a lot of prayer. Mr. Wong's secretary was beating around the bush... This was what I thought two days ago when I relentlessly shouted to a woman called Noemi whom I discovered to be Mr. Wong's secretary.
(to be continued...)
I am currently wearing a green t-shirt with 2 stars and the word "Caribbean Sunset" as its front print. Still, wearing it from the day's activities... No wonder, I can still smell the funk of Manila around my neck. My jeans, which I owned for almost 3 years now, served me well this afternoon, while we walk the lenght of Avenida. Rugby boys are like normal vendors selling sticky rum on the streets. Their eyes, deep shut. Their bodies, thin as a walking stick. This is my third time to go at the place where I'll be going. Everytime I climb its stairs, I always got these butterflies in my stomach. The eerieness of the building adds to the tension its visitors are possibly bearing. Breathing harder could help... as mush as a lot of prayer. Mr. Wong's secretary was beating around the bush... This was what I thought two days ago when I relentlessly shouted to a woman called Noemi whom I discovered to be Mr. Wong's secretary.
