Sunny day in Quezon City. If not for the waiting this afternoon, the day was perfect.

There was traffic jam. Noticed a garbage collector in a "patient, waiting attitude" pose, sometimes even waving to some people passing.





















His is a better disposition.

Malatapay, Zamboanguita, Negros (again)
(a late upload)

Every Wednesday, a large number of people go to Malatapay market to sell or buy cows, carabaos, pigs, goats and others.

Malatapay is a coconut-shaded area in the coastal part of Zamboanguita, Negros Oriental. It was just a short walk from where we stayed. Big and small animals, coming with their owners in different vehicles.


















































































Some too smelly, you can see why.


















Some are dead and dried (fish):
















Some plants have become bags:

















The lady in the resort said "There is lechon there if you like".

Someone looks happy (with his souvenir native mat) posing with the lechon.
















After this we had to rush. Embee had to work etc etc...
later we zip to Manila.

look up, young man, look up

Driving in Manila is not for the faint-hearted. and i am faint. therefore I don't drive. Perhaps reading Xrays of vehicular accident patients has dampened my little if any desire to learn.

But being a passenger sometimes requires a wooden heart too. When Embee drives and I am in front passenger seat, I try to be calm when I get overwhelmed by buses by either closing my eyes or putting my hands on my lap with my palms up (you can imagine fear can get so funny). If I hold on something, I get so tired after so 'palms up' saves my energy.

But when Embee's schedule and mine are not congruent, I commute (by bus, by jeepney or by tricycle), or just walk. From inside a tricycle, all others become giant. The bus is like a moving mountain.

There is a cure ("attention rival" to it) though. "Look up, young man, look up" or something like that were written big on a wall of FEATI University facing the street. I dont know if it is still there. More than a decade ago, I used to pass by the place when I lived in Taft.

Well, I looked up. ah...East Avenue looks good from below. I just discovered a camera-capturable cure for bus-induced overwhelming fear.

Green and sky
Green and sky.

of "solitary in the midst" and zoom

people can be everywhere but some of them solitary. in a noisy place, you see their silence from afar and speculate about their thoughts.

she looks like waiting?


















he looks like choosing between two or many things?


















I too was alone...

and thinking about them.

my conclusion later?

I have a "poor zoom" camera. I had to blur the periphery (yes, retouch)to isolate people already alone.

have you been sick?





















it is like noticing the stitch holes in your curtain.

If you google earth East Avenue of Quezon City, it will appear like a spoke radiating from the Quezon City Memorial Circle.

Among the smaller tributaries that feed traffic to the East Avenue is a small dirt road that shares an entrance way with the Forestry agency. The dirt road leads to a village with more people per unit area. People call the place squatters area, slum, etc. I just call it Forestry as the residents call it. You can walk inside and through the neighborhood and find yourself, after twist and turns, arriving at Quezon Avenue (another spoke radiating from the circle) or BIR Rd.

Here are some photos from Forestry:

bird house with no bird over a shirt hanging
























galvanized walls




















later,


fruit stand at BIR Rd

Nostalgia is foreign to those who have not experienced it.














I spent 9 years and many months in the block behind the fence shown above. It is a university-hospital complex.

Those years were loaded with things to do and books to read. But those years were not wasted. Among the many things I learned there:
a wig is as important as chemo or radiotherapy,
denial is not antonym to acceptance but prelude to it,
students to be motivated has to be inspired, not terrorized.


When you happen to pass by that big chunk of space and structures bordered by Faura, Taft and Pedro Gil Streets, give it a placid gaze. Inside are multiple intense disposition-changing events occuring at the same time at different levels and stages (and I dont mean Mc Dreamy!).