another railway trackback post took too long to materialize. duncan's haunting voice on his self-titled set the tone. on my way home, on my way up north, the flashes inside my head were southbound.
monumento, the first. am i late? i veered left and she's already there, patiently waiting. i walk past the queue and everyone that ascends become her. what's taking her so long?
5th. never mind the red in the timecard, a promise is a promise.
r. papa has always been for kaye. the station became an airport of sorts, a simple transaction becoming the last conversation, an unspoken goodbye for almost a decade.
abad santos. skip. blumentritt. skip. tayuman. skip. bambang. who rides at bambang? seriously? doroteo jose. skip. carriedo. stop. the infamous eastern garden lumpia, my secret weapon.
central terminal. a few minutes walk to the city, butterfly shirts, and sunshine.
united nations, she slipped, i held her hand.
pedro gil. from chasing tuesday to losing may. where everything began. i didn't mind the mindless chase, i stood up at the right time but i folded at the wrong time.
quirino, my first taste of money. vito cruz, eyebrows crossed impatiently waiting.
gil puyat, my new domain. i look across and i see her tired eyes and sleepy arms wrapped around me. we'll be home soon.
libertad, fire.
edsa, my end. i raced towards a silhouette. small talks led to big issues. and that was the last.
riding the train will never be the same again i said once. it did. i fell into the trap again of looking out and looking in, the lonely train ride as my timeline of have beens and what could have beens.
in a place where no stations will be memorable because the whole ride will be, that's where i wanna be.
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