From afar, a mall floor shows no emotion. No story. Just an aggregate of human movements and displays of things to buy.


























A little zooming reveals the opposite.
























All pictures in this post were taken in less than one minute (12:10:54 to 12:11:42 pm).




Man reading a note, thinking or waiting.
A couple talking intimately.
Mother and child arrived.

Back to reality is not necessarily bad.
Home is not just sweet. Its perpetual disarray is comfortable,

refreshes.

Where we live in manila, space underdosage rules. But today we are in Mactan. After attending to important matters, we went to Marigondon.

You know what they say about hyper-restricted children when left on their own? Well, the same thing happened when two adults who live far from the sea enjoyed a short celebration of space, sea and sun this afternoon. The ones in the first picture are not us though. The lady is too slim to be me. LOL. Blurred photo, sorry.













































Going back to the inn, we rode in a tricycle (then jeepney) instead of taxi. The tricycle was full, we were just added. We sat behind the driver (last picture). It was fun.

Tomorrow, back to underdosage. But it's okay.

Sunrise landing

A familiar land mass.

An island pronged to the mainland by two elegant bridges.

In the background, sunrise progressed as the plane touched down. The series looks inverted because of the moving location of the camera with reference to the sun.

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Good morning, Mactan.

Good morning, sleepyhead.

Pansit, bow.

Pansit is noodles. I would like to eat it with rice, with or without other dishes . I choose to disregard any rolling of eyeballs I get from anyone around. Egg white can be eaten with fish (both protein) and orange with lemon (both citrus). Why can't carbo with carbo? Is it really gross culinary misbehaviour?
























It's just me.

Though I suspect, I'm not the only one.

finding rest in chores

For some, it is knitting. Others cross stitch. I like walking but the equivalent to knitting and cross stitch for me is not walking but washing clothes. Yes, doing the laundry. That is, manually (though I use machine depending on size and cloth). I like doing it, something Embee has not grasped yet after 11 years. He still steals the dirty clothes and bring them to a laundry shop every now and then.

Washing clothes braces my mind in neutral. It simmers pungent feelings and evaporates unwanted anxieties. Concentrating on the task at hand, I feel all other thoughts are swept away. Even when we had househelp before, I didn't mind helping her sometimes. Two people washing can have a very good conversation without adversely affecting results.

As passionate as I am with washing though, I dislike ironing and re- attaching buttons ( never mind asking about looking for them or shopping for their look alikes). For the latter, glues are preventive. Thus the occasional arranging of clothes on the table for gluing.

Can I try putting that?, he says.

He did.

Oh, that is too much.














yes.

There is rest (& domestic joy) in chores, though ordinary.
For me and some others, the laundry.

(and rhymes).

Surprises in the constant

There are still surprises in the usual paths we take. The road to our work place, the people working there included.

Noticeable in front of St Joseph's College in E. Rodriguez almost everyday is a man named Mang Bert. He is the traffic man. He accompanies pedestrians crossing, too.


















May they be multiple or alone. May they be men,


















or women.

I like this one. She paused and appeared a little afraid at first because of a speedy vehicle coming.


















He motions.


















Later she walks more relaxed, he still accompanied her to other side.


















It must feel good to work making others feel safer.


















For me to notice more surprises on my path, I would have to make my pace slower.