AT THE STOA

A bent old man walking amidst jeepneys roaring by, wearing a surgical mask with hearts on it. An old lady who lives with a man and a cat, no longer caring for life. A crazy derelict drinking rainwater from an eight-ounce Coke bottle, wearing an ivy league sweater. The sound of a spider being killed at 6:38 in the morning, with the cat meowing in the background. The sight of the galvanized iron that serves as the neighbor's wall, rain-wet and streaked with rust. The sight of a prescription filled, but still the sound of complaints filling your everyday. The package of a duvet you just bought, exactly the right size and exactly the wrong color. A stack of books and a Venus de Milo on the corner, waiting for a home that's never going to come. Peeling walls and water stains on a rented space. A pair of shoes in the corner, because he bought his second bottle of gin for the day. A speaker on the table, playing music your ears no longer comprehend nor care for.

I wasn't supposed to be out in town today - it wasn't my window hours. It was ignorance of the law that did it, although, as the truism goes, that is in itself not an excuse. Having found out that I wasn't supposed to be out when I was already out, I stayed out and went to several places. I went to the construction site where our house is being built. One workman got really long hair now, far longer than when I last saw him. I smoked with the foreman, tasting one of his bitter cigarettes and appreciating it all the same, about developments and upcoming tasks. The house is far from complete, although that didn't stop me from imagining where things - and the cat - will end up. I went to the school my nephew was enrolled at to pay some dues. They made me sign a non-sick form before entering the empty school, and on the way back from there I took a picture of a massive empty parking lot. In the mall I found a Venus de Milo statuette, which I promptly bought. I was sor