The words came before I saw the image. Pretty much illustrates how my mind is right now — a constant play of tug-o-war between remembering and forgetting. I reckon, I’m presently stuck in a state of undecided-ness. It’s wiser to let go than to hold on to wishful thinking. Fearing that this inexplicable ache will eat me up whole.

Like bumper boats in amusement parks, the fun is found in bumping into strangers, not running a course side by side around the pool and then you’ll soon find that it’s over after 5 minutes. Whatever was shared in that pool stays there, without any obligation to further the acquaintance on dry land. You’re back to being strangers again.

Resigned to the thought that it’s meant to happen this way.. chances and currents, steered and fleeting. It is more romantic, even when empirical reason may claim otherwise, to leave the memory be. It will remain perfect in its own strange way, magical even. It’s one of the most wonderfully crafted events in my life that will inspire me to write. It’s now part of the reasons why I love sunrises.

“Analysis destroys wholes. Some things, magic things, are meant to stay whole. If you look at their pieces, they go away.” — Robert James Waller

Funny how I shared one sunrise with him and he didn’t even know that he made it a little more special than usual.

The quote was lifted from the book, The Bridges of Madison County; Photo taken while riding on a Ferris Wheel in Enchanted Kingdom, Sta. Rosa, Laguna, Philippines; October 2010.

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Finding that one good idea. Working with thousands of words that litter your head. I’m finding that writing can come easy on some days and on others, I come up dry. The latter would cause me to turn to my books and notes. Voraciously consuming written works and writing down bits and pieces of my own.

Books
I had always dreamed of having a personal library but I was never inclined to buy myself a bookshelf. Finding contentment in make-shifts and open surfaces. My books needed a home and, now, I reckon they’ll have one. Finally — a home.

Notes
You’ll always find me with a pen and a paper. I’m constantly writing things down. From lists to conversations with God. Dreams, memories, plans, and fancies. They’re all written on a piece of paper. Gathering dust. Stiff and yellow with time.

Books. Notes. Home. Time.

Out of the thousands, I fished out four simple words.

And they hold one good idea.

Trivia: Book, The Street Lawyer by John Grisham and a Moleskine Ruled Notebook. Photo taken on June 2007. Also seen here.

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