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The outskirts of London have changed dramatically since I have set foot upon their cobbled streets. Now markets with dull, chipped paint stand amongst unkempt houses, forgotten by their owners who now only remember the address of the local pub. Monstrous barns and useless soil reside where dense thickets of grass once stood with white, milky flowers peeking though. The only things that remain unchanged are the decrepit streets waiting for unsuspecting travelers to fall into their nooks, and the boys hiding in the alleyways waiting to rob the unwary person.
“You always treat your friends as work...”
It was like a red light flashing putting whatever I have in my mind to a halt.
I asked myself, “Am I? Is it me?”
Your former chat addiction? Your former love? Your macking partner?
The talker that dared to be different blazed the trail for the talker scene in the early 1996 by melding club and music elements.
Your former chat addiction?
Your former love?
Your macking partner?
Have you ever felt like the world is revolving without you?
It alarms me how the earth could consume me up whole and nobody would even notice. Everyone seems to have to be somewhere, to meet someone, to do something, and they all pass by me with their little goodbye waves and farewells as they trek off to the next agenda on their checklist.
Friday afternoon, the usual end of the week office meeting. I took a bus. It was a seven-hour ride from my province. I put on my earphone and begun listening to the list of songs in my iPod.
We are always in love. However, do not get me wrong by saying that. I do not only mean it in a romantic way but in general. Love is a mysterious emotion that always confuses us and directs us to ways on how to express what it means. Nevertheless, the truth is we are being in love every day.
Embrace me as I come near you.
O sweetest refuge of mine,
You are my comfort when I am in deep sorrow.
Welcome me now with your warmth,
For I chose to lay beneath you forever...
"Mom, Father Dominguez called to tell you that the prayer meeting is about to start."
"Really? I think I better go now."
That’s my Mom, very Catholic and pious.
She walks with modest curve, eyes recognizable and hair flowing. Her long, slender legs quietly seek out the ground, with one step gracefully before the other. Her hips sway from side to side like the soft melody of a Congo drum. Her luscious lips slightly curve into a small, secret smile, as she probably remembers of a private joke she had heard the day before.
As day pass me by, I can't help, but wonder how lost I am here. I don't feel at home. I don't feel at ease. Yes, people, I finally admit that being in the west is not what I can call "home". The east sounds so inviting, plus all of my friends are awaiting for my return! Life here differs so much from there. It's like being in another world. A world where time stood still and goes in slow motion. Being there gives me such a rush. A rush that I never felt before, not even back home.
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