[here's a short piece i wrote in 2005. i was left behind in our cottage in busy and overcrowded Puerto Galera, enjoying a strange moment of solitude. that was the last time i went to the notorious White Beach during the long Holy Week break, when the entire gay crowd in Malate goes to Puerto Galera.]
It’s best to do it at dusk. Grab a bottle of beer, cold or warm, it doesn’t really matter because it’s the devotion that counts. Let it enthrall you with its sway, its fronds dancing away a faithful desire to fly. Before the day ends, it giggles ruthlessly, like a boy who, after all the side glances and the furtive smiles, stands up slowly to take his leave.
Today, the one that caught my attention stands solitary in the horizon. It is unmindful of the crowd, ignoring even the careful fondness that i have slowly but earnestly nurtured. Lest misunderstood, I have no agenda or ulterior motives: I just wish to be mesmerized by its obsession with the wind. I would like to stay this way until the evening sky reveals its gems. I would like to stare at it until the madness raging inside my head becomes summer bubbles and float away with the wind.
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