This screen was blank for fifteen minutes before the first letter was keyed in.
I do not know how this works anymore. It has been two years since the last post. I also noticed that the recurring theme of my last blog posts was my inability to write as often as I could. But I choose not to give it its death. No, not yet.
So, here I am. I write. I try.
While I do not know if anyone still reads this, I am not going to stop yet. This time, I shall write for myself.
I write this while Fado music, whose language I cannot completely understand, becomes a relaxing companion to this writing exercise. How come I just recently discovered this music?
Today was supposed to be uneventful. Today, a Sunday during summer in an almost empty Madrid, allowed me for the first time in a long time to hear myself the loudest. My solitude was beautiful. My friends were on vacation, and I chose the company of my shadow under the stirring heat of Spain. I saw one old woman passed out. I was not in a position to help, so I walked away, to the century-old movie house where I watched a movie along with nine other strangers.
I placed a bagful of bargain shirts and pants on the floor of theater no. 4. I shall try them all again when I get home, I reminded myself. Shopping is exciting, but the credit card charge is not. Hahaha. Well, I needed them. I made justifications for the purchase, as an afterthought. I had to.
The movie played. It was not Oscar nominee but a movie that took my mind off briefly from the world beyond the century-old movie house.
I went home, took a shower, had my supper, and held on to my dear mobile phone for hours until the call of blogging beckoned me.
I do not know how this works anymore. It has been two years since the last post. I also noticed that the recurring theme of my last blog posts was my inability to write as often as I could. But I choose not to give it its death. No, not yet.
So, here I am. I write. I try.
While I do not know if anyone still reads this, I am not going to stop yet. This time, I shall write for myself.
I write this while Fado music, whose language I cannot completely understand, becomes a relaxing companion to this writing exercise. How come I just recently discovered this music?
Today was supposed to be uneventful. Today, a Sunday during summer in an almost empty Madrid, allowed me for the first time in a long time to hear myself the loudest. My solitude was beautiful. My friends were on vacation, and I chose the company of my shadow under the stirring heat of Spain. I saw one old woman passed out. I was not in a position to help, so I walked away, to the century-old movie house where I watched a movie along with nine other strangers.
I placed a bagful of bargain shirts and pants on the floor of theater no. 4. I shall try them all again when I get home, I reminded myself. Shopping is exciting, but the credit card charge is not. Hahaha. Well, I needed them. I made justifications for the purchase, as an afterthought. I had to.
The movie played. It was not Oscar nominee but a movie that took my mind off briefly from the world beyond the century-old movie house.
I went home, took a shower, had my supper, and held on to my dear mobile phone for hours until the call of blogging beckoned me.
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| Random Photo. Taken in Indonesia years ago. |
