Ang mga taga-salo ng aking puwit

Sabi nga ni pareng Murakami, ang sofa ay hindi lamang sofa. Marami kang masasabi tungkol sa tao base sa sofa niya; kahit wag mong seryosohin ang kanyang pananamit, pagkain na kinahihiligan, o relihiyon, kailangan mong seryosohin ang kanyang sofa.

Ang upuan ko sa opisina ay tuwid, makintab, itim, at lubusang hindi pagbibigyan ang scoliosis ng kahit sinuman. Kahit na ito'y malambot, ito'y matigas; pinapaalala sa akin na kailangan kong magtrabaho, magbasa, yumuko sa mga papel at kung anuman ang kailangang tunawin ng aking sistema bago magklase.


     

Kaya lagi akong nangangapitbahay para matulog. Kinukuha ko ang unan na iyan at nakikitulog sa cubicle ng may cubicle, dahil, ayon nga sa unan, kailangan kong hanapin ang kasiyahan ko't pumunta doon maya't maya.

Samantala, ang upuan ko sa bahay ay malambot, puno ng bilog-bilog, at tiyak na pasasayahin ang likod, puwit, tiyan, at kaluluwa ng sinumang maupo. Isa itong nilalang ng mahabaging diyos, isang salungdamdamin ng kaginhawaan at diretsong kaantukan.

       
Kaya kahit na umuupo ako dito para magbasa, natutulog na lamang ako. Ang saya naman yata ng gising na pamumuhay ko, animo'y lagi na lamang akong naghihilik. 

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