m y c a r r i e r

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… Continue reading m y c a r r i e r

City’s Chaos

My ears hate the scandalous honking cars and buses. My eyes are hurt by the sight of children sleeping beside roads and under bridges. My nose are irate with the stinky smell of cigarette and engine smoke. My tongue can taste the bitterness this city’s chaos spoke. Yet my skin can feel the powerful tingle of… Continue reading City’s Chaos

The Gift

After 30 minutes of stillness inside this steaming, stinky bus, I promised myself I won’t ride an ordinary bus again. I almost went off until I hear someone quietly sobbing. The man beside me, a construction worker (I think) wearing dirty green chinos and old faded jeans silently cries as he clutches a plastic bag… Continue reading The Gift