Elevated eyes can see the throngs of the wheeled machines this morning. Like row of soldiers, though not marching nor moving under the 9 a.m. sun burning.
Feet need not to tiptoe to see the jeepneys, cars, and buses, wearing the colors of the vibrant Philippines, yet tainted with the grey blanket of Manila’s dust and dirt. Honking to complain of the many minutes wasted, as if noise can widen the paved yet narrow road.
After a few steps from the rusted footbridge to the equally rugged jeep destined to be my carrier today, I embarked on my own journey to start the day’s routine. Perhaps, vehicles are armies with different passengers and captains.
Tired rubber wheels screech
against sunbathed, asphalt road,