FX Ride, A Short Story

I got into the FX at around 12 midnight. Fortuitously, I was the last passenger, no need to wait for the FX to fill up. Good, I was so tired from an overtime work and I hadn’t had dinner yet. I looked forward to the comfort of luxuriously relaxing on my bed, then falling asleep fitfully until the following day. The back end of the FX was cramped, but it was ok. I would rather sit there than at the middle, I didn’t want to be squeezed like a sardine. I sat comfortably, but the only way I could do that was to insert my legs between the legs of the passenger in front of me. Well, what the hey, I wanted to get some nap all throughout the trip and I guessed the other passenger; a him, wouldn’t mind at all. So, subtly, I worked it out. His right leg, then my left leg, his left leg, finally my right leg...his left leg (thigh for that matter) is between my legs now. I was not in the mood to flirt, I was never in the mood to flirt for that matter because I didn’t know how. I would rather find a text mate, or go online and find a chat mate. Probably because I was conservative, or just I didn’t want to make the first move, or deeper still, I was afraid to be rejected. And why would I flirt? Where would it lead? I didn’t want to get into a situation I wouldn’t be able to handle; ha ha, it was short of saying, I didn’t want a relationship just yet!

All throughout the ride, I could not sleep. It was 12 mn, there was no one to text, so I simply indulged myself in my usual pre-occupation during long trips; study my fellow passengers. I looked at my right, this one was too old, the other guy in my front is so fat. Finally, my eyes rested on the guy in front of me, the guy who I has criss crossed my legs, whose thigh was sandwiched with mine.

Oh my, wasn’t he cute? I wondered why I wasn’t able to notice him right away...maybe because the FX was dark, or maybe because I was too pre-occupied to get a doze and sleep. Nevertheless, he was cute so I gave him my full undivided attention. He looked tall, because our legs meet, unlike the other two at the back, their legs wouldn’t even touch. He had this boyish look, a lock of hair falling on his forehead. I had the sudden urge to push it back, but of course I didn’t! He had smooth skin... no pimples there, that is always a turn on to me! He had his polo barong undone, so I could also notice his chest. He was not thin, medium built most likely. 

I guessed I was staring at him for so long because he gave me a certain look. Well now, I didn’t want to cause any scene, so I looked away. But I still feel his eyes boring on me so I looked back. Damn, what did his look mean? Is he flirting? How should I know? Why should I make the first move? Come on, as if I really knew how to do this. 

But a tiny thought nagged at me. Why not? You wouldn’t see him again, so why not give in to this bit of craziness. If he responded, then go for it, if not, well, you were not really into that. 

I never considered the time factor when travelling in the deep of night. There was no traffic, so I was already nearing my stop. The most that I need was squeezed his thigh between my legs and he didn’t even react. He probably took it as an accident because it happened when the FX hit as pothole.

Sayang, I thought to myself. He could be it. It meaning the one person that I would see myself growing old with. Some person I would do things with like watched the sunset together in a beach, stargaze at the park or wait for sunrise at the top of a mountain. He could be the one I would like to see first thing in the morning and my last call at night. He could me my home, where I would feel safe and secure. He could be my lover for crying out loud! We will cook together, eat together, wash dishes together, take a shower together, make love all night long! On a rainy day, we could just hold hands and lazxe the day away on the couch watching cartoons and classic movies, or lie in bed reading our favorite books. We could play scrabble, or he could teach me how to play chess. He could be my gallery companion, going to museums, or my duet partner when I sing-along at videoke bars. 

Sigh. But I do believe in fate. I mean, if he was the one for me, he would be. We would meet no matter what the circumstance. But then again, if I don’t make a move, all will be lost. He could only be the one guy that could have been my life, the one I would offer my successes, the one who would share with me my life’s adventure. He could have been.

I made a compromise with myself. If we get off at the same stop, I would make the first move and introduce myself. Why does it have to be like this? Here was my one chance and yet I am hesitating. He looked decent and presentable naman. I wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with (he he, the question is, he might be the one be embarrassed to be seen with me). But still, I made a promise to myself. If and only if he gets off at the same stop as I am, then and only then would I make the move.

And he did get off at the same stop. Shucks, I could not back out of my dare. I got off first. I told myself, if he overtakes me, that’s it, or if he didn’t, I would chicken out. There you go, I was still afraid to try. Funny thing is, I was never given the chance. He walked right beside me and matched me stride by stride. Well, I guess he would be receptive for a casual talk after all. So, I mustered all my guts and blurted, “You going my way?” Duh, a good opening line... “It looks like it” he said. Good. “I am Paolo by the way, you?” “Call me Adan.”

Post Script: I wrote this as soon as I got home, unedited.

IN DREAMS

Author's Note:

The first part of this story was published at IMAGE MAGAZINE last 2003.

In dreams, we come in full circle…
In dreams, nothing is impossible…
In dreams, love grows and withers…
In dreams, love goes on forever.

Dolores Liu
Born April 15, 1880
Died October 4, 1976

It was past midnight when Paolo finished unpacking his belongings. “Not bad, not bad at all. This place would suit me fine. This old room would be conducive to my assignment. With this kind of environment, I think I could finish the painting in half the time.” The house where Paolo would be staying for the next six weeks was an old Spanish house in Vigan, Ilocos Sur. “This is perfect.” The beach was just around the corner of the house and the garden, although it looked like it has not been taken cared of for years, were perfect backdrops for his painting.

“I’ll start my painting tomorrow,” Paolo said to himself. Even the room looked old and very Spanish. The bed was still supported with four posts; the windows made up of capiz and the wall, composed of wood. What was so prominent in the room was the big old oval mirror that faced the door. About Paolo’s height, the full-length ornate mirror could reflect almost the whole content of the room. Too tired to change clothes, Paolo fell asleep immediately.

The house was very quiet. I do hope mama is asleep already. It has been three days since I last visited the garden…my garden. I missed these roses. Ahhhhhh, to smell their fragrance as they bloom is reward already for my three- day confinement. I don’t regret answering mama back. I don’t really like Arnulfo. If only I have someone to share this garden of mine. I don’t like to share this with Arnulfo, that small wrinkly Chinese my mama would like me to marry. I don’t like him. I wish papa was here. I am sure papa would not like his little girl married to a sickly looking Chinese.
Later this evening, as I was brushing my hair at the window overlooking the garden and preparing for sleep, I saw this stranger in the garden. He seemed so out of place and confused. But what is he doing in my garden? He shouldn’t be here! I had to go down the garden and confront the man. Who does he think he is?

“What are you doing here?” I asked the man.
“I think I am lost…” said the strange man.
“Obviously you are mister. Could you leave my garden? I don’t even know how you got here!”
The strange man was wearing an unfamiliar outfit. It was rather odd to see a man dressed so out of place here. He was probably in his twenties. Tall, mestiso and quite well built, I assumed he was a foreigner but not Spanish. All the Spaniards were leaving the area. If he was a Spaniard, the new kapitan would immediately arrest him. What with the war against Spain finally over, the Castillans didn’t have any reason to stay. But this stranger was mestizo…he might be one of the new breed of white people, the Amerikano. He was probably lost on his way to the plaza where most of his kind was staying. But he didn’t have the built of a soldier.

“Yes, I am lost miss, can you tell me where I am now?” asked the man.
“Aha! What are you doing wandering in the night, going into other people’s garden, and here you are asking me where you are right now? Well sir, for your information, you are in our garden, at calle de Caridad, where are you going?”
“In fact, am not sure miss. I don’t even know if I am supposed to be here.”
“You ARE not supposed to be here! This is MY private garden!”

I know I was being rude to the man, but I could not help it. What was more annoying was, I think he found me amusing! I see his smile playing at the corners of his lips and his eyes twinkling. Whatever. I am not going to fall for a stranger.

“Well, I think your garrison señor is a block from here. You could probably use the next street, calle de Soledad to take you to your base.”
“Base? No, I don’t belong to any base. Actually, I think I was drawn to this place because of the roses. It was a first for me to see more than a dozen roses abloom at the same time.”
“Well these are my roses. Thank you for noticing them. Now could you please leave before I call for help? You are tresspassing young man.”
“No, that is okay…”

And like a dream, when I was picking some roses for our altar, when I turned around, the stranger was not there anymore. Who was he? What did he want? Why did he leave so suddenly?
Paolo woke up with a start. What a very vivid dream. Immediately, he went to his art supplies and started setting up his canvas. I would like to capture that dream, that one very moment. Fleetingly, he smelled the scent of roses as he unfolded his canvas on his easel. But when he started to draw with his brush, all he made were strokes of dark blue against the very whiteness of the canvass. Frustrated that his dream left his consciousness so fast, he went to the window to smoke. It will come in good time.

Looking over from the window, he could see the beach around the bend beckoning to him to take a plunge and swim. Underneath the window was the garden run wild with weeds and grasses. I think this is the garden I dreamt about last night…am not sure though. Anyway, I have no time to speculate when I have so much more to do.

Paolo was reading a classic historical novel about the Spanish-American war in a rocking chair in front of the big ornate mirror in his room when sleep overtook him at around midnight. Probably, he was too tired from the whole day cleaning, arranging and looking around the house he could easily fall asleep.

He was here again early this evening. I don’t know what he wants! I was pruning my roses when, suddenly from nowhere, this strange man appeared around the corner. Come to think of it, he didn’t look that foreign to me now. With eyes as light as a young balsa wood and hair with light brown tint, it’s no wonder I mistaken him for an Amerikano… but when he approached me, he spoke in the dialect and I knew for sure, he is a native. Perhaps, he was one of the creoles. Mama wouldn’t let me out of the house and the only man she wanted me to see was Arnulfo. This is my opportunity, even if, mama had warned me not to talk to strangers but for once, I would talk to this man, although he is stranger to me. It was quite unnatural for me to talk to him and be with him tonight. But who cares?

“It’s you again. Don’t do that again, will you!”
“Do what?”
“Popping from out of the corner, scaring the chickens out of me!”
“Did I scare you?”
“Not you, the way you just appear…”
“You have very beautiful roses, almost but not quite, as beautiful as you.”
“You sure do knows how to make a woman blush don’t you?”


I felt myself blush then. Who was this man who came here all of a sudden? Who was this man that makes my pulse run wild and my heart beat faster? Mama would get angry at me if she saw me talking to a stranger. I turned to leave. I should not be here seen talking to a man. Was this how a Filipina should behave? I should never be kept alone with a man…much less a stranger.

“Wait…” he said, “Can’t I even know your name?”
“Why? I don’t know you. I think it would be more courteous if you introduced yourself first. And by the way, this is MY garden.”
“Okay, okay! I am Paolo. And you are?”
“Dolores.” Paolo was not sure who Dolores was but as he woke up, it was this name that kept on echoing in his mind. “Dolores? Now I am bothered.” Throughout his adult life, there had never been a time a woman’s name invaded his sleep. “I will not accomplish much if I stay here and muse about a girl’s name I haven’t really met.” Today was the day Paolo would be meeting the owner of the house to discuss his stay at the old Spanish mansion. “Maybe if I get to know the history of the house, I could come up with an inspiration.”

“Mrs. Liu? Thank you very much for letting me stay in this house.”
“No problem, hijo, just finish the painting my husband commissioned you to do…”
“Could you tell me something about this house madame?”
“Well, according to my husband, Danding, he inherited this house from his great-grandmother. His lola lived for a long time in this house. This was built for more than a hundred years ago and has withstood the wars that ravaged Vigan then.”
“Have you seen the garden hijo? It used to be the pride of the clan when Danding’s lola was still alive. Nobody’s garden could be compared to the roses that bloomed in this garden. Among all the houses here, this was the only one untouched by the Japanese when they burned this village.”

Later that afternoon, Paolo started making sketches for the commissioned painting. Mr. Liu would like to have a painting depicting the house in all its glory, probably set during the post-Spanish era but definitely not during the American occupation. According to Mrs. Liu, it was during that period, 1899, that the house was frequently flocked with so many admirers, natives and locals alike. The garden would be the centerpiece.

“What are you doing here?” I asked the man as I approached him sitting on a bench near the grotto. “You just don’t come here every night!”
“I am not sure Dolores, I am not sure. But every night, I felt drawn to this garden and hoping that I would see you. Every night I come here, and thank God, every night I see you.”
“Were you spying on me?”
“I am only here to admire you and look at you, nothing beyond that.”
‘But I don’t even know you…you are but a stranger to me.”
“I am a stranger in this place and time Dolores. But with you, I do not feel lost…”

“Paolo, you don’t know me…”
“That’s is why I am here, to know you. The first time I saw you, it’s as if I belong to you and you belong to me.”

Should I encourage him? There had never been a man in my life. For all my eighteen years of existence, my parents had kept me hidden. I could not even go out, I had no friends except perhaps my yaya. And now, I was arranged to get married to Arnulfo, the man I do not even know or care to know about. Finally, when I felt that I have no more hopes left, Paolo came into my life.

It had been a month since I first saw Paolo. My dream, my lover, my beloved. The nights I spent with you could last me a lifetime. Even if we just talked, even if we just meet for just a few hours every night. I look forward to seeing you Paolo every night. I want to be free with you Paolo, to see your world.
“Who is she?” That was the first question that came to Paolo’s mind. “Who was this girl that haunts my sleep?” Immediately from bed, as if guided by invisible hands, Paolo started drawing strokes on the canvas. After an hour of intense concentration, he was taken aback with the picture he had drawn. Long black hair nestling in an oval shaped face. Eyes the color of almonds, nose nicely shaped. Lips so red, hiding a trace of smile. A dimple on the left cheek, a small mole on the chin. Nicely shaped eyebrows, thick and long eyelashes. Who was this girl of my dream? Paolo had drawn a girl sitting on a bench near the grotto. The girl was dressed in an old-fashioned patadyong. She was wearing wooden shoes and was holding a bouquet of roses on her lap. She was smiling, as if posing for a camera. In her eyes, Paolo could see the happiness and hope for the girl. Who was she?

I have fallen in love with a man I barely knew. He comes to me every night like a dream. If only Paolo could save me from an unhappy future, but what is his power compared to fate?

“I will be married to Arnulfo this Sunday. I do not love him.”
“Where I go, you cannot follow…but in my heart, you will always be here.”
“But I am getting married this Sunday!”
“If only I could take you with me…if only we could be together. But even fate conspired against us.”

With a heavy heart I said goodbye to Paolo. I was not even sure if I am gong to see him again, perhaps. But before he left, he gave me one very important thing. He gave me a ring. He said that this ring would forever be our symbol of love. He gave me love and a chance to love truly.
Paolo woke up with a start. His heart beating wildly, his pulse running wild. He was drenched with sweat. As he fumbled for the light switch, he dragged himself upright. As the lights turned on, he looked at the mirror and felt his haggard face. What is it? I feel that something bad has happened. Looking at his hands, he was amazed not to find his college ring in his middle finger.

Today I died. I was married to Arnulfo, the man my mama wanted me to marry but I don’t love. Today my heart is taken from me. Is this how love must be?

Mr. Liu came that afternoon to check on the progress of Paolo. Paolo had set up his easel in the garden, near the grotto to get the full effect for his painting. Mr. Liu excitedly waited for Paolo to take off the white cloth that covers the painting. As he did so, Mr. Liu could not help but exclaim his surprise. The old Spanish house was painted brand new. The capiz windows were all new. The setting was early evening. Stars were just starting to come out and the moon was half full. The garden was the centerpiece of the house and was proudly drawn in bloom.

“Where did you get that? How did you get this painting done?”
“What do you mean Mr. Liu? Don’t you like it? What I painted was what you had in mind. I feel that I captured the spirit of the house.”
“You did hijo, you did. You captured the house in its golden age, you captured the garden in its bloom. But what amazes me, how did you able to draw my Lola Dolores?”

Dumbstruck, Paolo did not know how to answer. I just did.

“My Lola Dolores never looked so happy than I remember. I had never seen her really smile. I think she never loved my Lolo Arnulfo. They only had one child, my father. My father told me that the garden was my lola’s favorite part. She was always here taking care of the roses. That bench was my lola’s usual place. It is the place where she told me and my other brothers stories of the war. It was also the place where she chose to spend her last days here on earth.”

Mr. Liu had left the house with the painting. He was so amazed at what Paolo had done, right then and there, he commissioned him to do the portrait of him and his wife.

Paolo got back to his room and slowly sat down on the rocking chair in front of the oval mirror. But it was all a dream…it was never true. But as Paolo looked at the mirror, he remembered Mr. Liu last words before he left.

“According to my lola, this is where she found her true love, her life. She started living when she first met the man she loved, and here she died when her love left her. She never told us what happened, or why her love left her. For years, everyday, lola Dolores stayed here hoping that her man would come back. She really loved the guy, she was willing to leave my lolo for him, if ever he comes back. And you know, what my lola’s last words in this garden was?”
“What?” Paolo asked, fearing the words that would Mr. Liu would say next.
“Let me see, it was October 4, 1976 then. I could not really forget that day. Lola and I were here at this garden, just sitting on this bench. I was ten years old then. My lola was taking a nap, when suddenly, her eyes flew open and she sighed.”
“He’s here now. I can now rest in peace. My love has come back. I am happy now.”
“I don’t understand my lola, at 96, I think she was quite senile already. But that night, my lola died with a smile. It was the only time I saw her really happy.”

Paolo was at a loss. How could it be true, how could it happen? It was all a dream! October 4, 1976 was my birthday. How could it be me?

The next day, Paolo started packing. As he looked at the mirror, he saw his dreams played back. Was it really a dream? Slowly, he felt the mirror as if to test its authenticity. As if my magic, he was drawn by a vision.

Today, I don’t like to live…I have died when Paolo left me…but as long as I live, and forever, I vow that I will only love one man. This I swear. With this knife, I will draw my own blood and use it to sign this journal. I think I shall never write again…I hope someday, my scions will get to know what really happened. In this journal, I entrust my feelings and all the moments I shared with Paolo. When the right time comes, somebody in the future will get to know what happened. Somebody special will find this book behind this mirror.
As Paolo turned to leave, he heard a sudden clink of metal. There was his college ring under the oval mirror. It was his ring and yet it was not. It was as if the ring had aged one hundred years, tarnished with age but when he looked at the writings inside, his name was engraved in it, Paolo Cervantes. As he bent to retrieve the ring on the floor, he noticed that the oval mirror is not really fitted on the wall. Curios about it, he felt for the space between the oval mirror and the wall. In it, he felt leather. He took it out and realized it was a book. With a heart beating wildly, he slowly opened the book and read the first entry.

October 4, 1899

The house was very quiet. I do hope mama is asleep already. It has been three days since I last visited this garden…my garden. I missed these roses. Ahhhhhh, to smell their fragrance as they bloom is reward already for my three- day confinement. If only I have someone to share this garden of mine.
Paolo gently fondled his college ring and whispered a name, Dolores. But you have shared the garden with your one true love, Dolores. I will come back here Dolores and take care of your garden, our garden. Your past is my future. I will see to it that your love for me will not go to waste. It was never a dream Dolores, it was never a dream. Fate cheated us. She denied us time and space, but fate could not withhold our feelings for each other. You are my beloved, Dolores. Wait for me.

After hours of commuting from the Vigan house, Paolo immediately went to bed as soon as he got home. Thinking that he could leave behind the confusing experiences he had in Vigan, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

He was at the Liu’s mansion once again. He saw himself drifting towards the garden where the girl that haunted his dreams sat comfortably on the garden bench. The girl said, “You think you could easily get away from me? After finding you, I wouldn’t want my love to slip my grasp.” He knew that in the few weeks he stayed in that house, he loved the girl even if it was a fantasy, a dream. But this cryptic remark left him with a hope that their love would find fulfillment in this lifetime.
Jackie just arrived from the States after wrapping up a business deal for the family. She was excited, for the first time, she was going to have a luxurious and well-deserved vacation this time in her ancestral home in Vigan. She had been hearing so much about the rest house that she finally capitulated in agreeing to have a vacation there. More than that, she needed a rest from dreams plaguing her for the past weeks. In her dream, she was a witness to a love affair not meant to be.

As soon as she arrived at the mansion, she was surprised to see the house well treated. She was impressed that after all these years, the house was in great condition. She roamed the garden and was amazed with the abundance of roses abloom in the garden. With the many rooms in the house, Jackie chose the one overlooking the garden. The room was simply decorated and the only furniture aside from the four-posted bed was a full-length oval mirror. According to the caretaker, this was her great-grandmother’s room when she was a teenage girl. After unpacking her things and taking a hot shower, Jackie fell asleep.

She saw herself observing a scene between two people. She felt that although the couple was barely touching each other, they were intimately in love. She heard the woman say, “You think you could easily get away from me? After finding you, I wouldn’t want my love to slip my grasp.” She didn’t hear the reply of the guy because he suddenly vanished. She didn’t exactly see the man but as she looked at the woman intently, she was surprised to see herself.

Jackie woke up with a start. The dream was so vivid, she could even smell the roses. She went to the open window and look at the garden. Definitely, this house gives me the spooks! Maybe I should go back to Manila.

In Manila, her mom and dad were already preparing for a welcome back dinner. When they found out that Jackie would be returning in a few days time, they put no stops in preparing for the dinner party. Mr. and Mrs. Liu were of the singular agreement to invite Paolo, the artist they commissioned to do a painting of their house in Vigan.

Paolo was reluctant to accept the dinner invitation. Although it had been months since he finished the commissioned painting, he was unsurprised that the Liu’s invited him. He knew that Mr. and Mrs. Liu were very kind to include him in the invitation, but the truth was, he was still confused with what happened to him in Vigan. When he finished the commissioned painting, he was both glad and saddened with the outcome. He was glad that the Liu’s like the painting he did. He was not happy to leave the house, for even in dreams, he had a glimpsed on how loved must have felt.

As soon as Jackie arrived back in Manila, she went to the mall to do some shopping. I need a new dress for tonight’s dinner. While walking along the shopping mall, she happened to pass by an art gallery. She was mesmerized with the paintings exhibited there. Lush blooms of roses, roses and moonbeams, oddly enough, she somehow felt that the paintings were familiar, as if the every painting was bit a piece of a larger picture. She was so enamored with one of the paintings that she didn’t notice the man slowly approaching her.

Paolo just arrived at the art gallery where a couple of his most recent paintings were exhibited. His fellow artists, the curator and the gallery owner were quite surprised with the theme of his exhibit. Usually, Paolo painted people as subjects, but this time, most if not all of his paintings were of roses. Although Paolo deviated from his usual forte, his paintings were well received. In fact, a couple was already sold.

As he entered the gallery, he was caught unprepared to see a woman standing in front of one of his paintings. With long black hair almost brushing her waist, her slender build, she somehow resembled the woman of his dreams.

Feeling that someone is staring at her, Jackie turned and came face to face with the man she saw in her dream in her stay in Vigan. Mesmerized with each other, the two stared across each other as if they were the only people in the gallery.

“What are you doing here?” Paolo broke the silence.

“I’m here because I have to be here,” said Jackie. As if waking up from a dream, Jackie shook herself. “I saw the paintings, I was curious and decided to take a look.”

“I painted them.” Paolo said. I painted them with you as my inspiration, but how could you be here? You are just a figment of my dreams… and even if you are real, how could you look like the girl of my dreams?

“They’re really beautiful, but I have to go.” Jackie left the gallery with confused feelings. Paolo can only look after her.

The following night, the Lius celebrated Jackie’s successful trip abroad and her return from a well-deserved vacation in Vigan with dinner with some close relatives and friends. The couple noticed Jackie’s pre-occupation but shrugged it off. Knowing Jackie, they thought she might be itching to go back to work the following day.

The doorbell chimed announcing the arrival of another guest. Being nearer to the door, Jackie opened it. Standing at the other side of the door was no other than Paolo with a bouquet of red roses. Surprised, but deep in her heart, Jackie had been waiting for Paolo for the rest of her life. Seeing Paolo standing in front of her brought back the memories of her dream in Vigan.

Mesmerized, Paolo stood transfixed upon the vision of her dreams. When the Lius invited him to dinner, he accepted with reservation. The painting he did for the Lius was one of the best, if not the best commissioned painting he did. Now, his painting, his dreams all came alive in the flesh.

The situation was too much of a coincidence. Suddenly, from the inside, Jackie’s parents were ushering everyone to the living room for a surprise. Mr. Liu was holding a covered canvass.

‘Last month, while Jackie was in the States, I commissioned a painting of our old house in Vigan. My wife and I were fortunate that Paolo accommodated us to do this painting. Imagine our surprise when Paolo finished the painting in just under two weeks, what’s more, he also painted the likeness of my aguela so well. My daughter Jackie never met her great-grandmother. If she did, she would have met one of the most interesting people. More than that, she resembled my lola. So, in honor of my daughter’s successful trip abroad, we are presenting her with this painting. A painting of her lola that we believe, have they met, they are kindred spirits.”

As Mr. Liu took the cover off the canvass, everyone gasp as they saw the figure. A beautiful lady was depicted in the painting holding a bouquet of roses. As they turned towards Jackie, except for her modern clothes, she just looked exactly like the woman in the painting. Still holding Paolo’s bouquet of roses, she stepped forward to take a closer look at the painting. As she touched the canvass, a flitting memory kindled on her mind, the last words of her dreams. This is my legacy to you my child, a legacy of love. In your time, you will meet one person that is pure of heart. He is your soul mate. Love him, for he loves you already without knowing it.
Across the crowded room, her eyes locked with Paolo and knew that finally, love has come her way.

Coming of Age

I haven’t slept yet.  I am too tired, too pre-occupied to sleep.  I have too much energy to sleep.  Even if my body is tired, my mind won’t let me doze off.  So many things happened to me the past 24 hours; I think I will never get to sleep at all this day.   I never realized that my coming of age, my finding who I am would be this confusing, this difficult.

I am gay.  Oh God, writing it down is such a tremendous relief already.  Putting it down on paper kind of makes me committed to really come out.  It is not on my mind anymore; it is written down in paper and kind of makes me realize that this is real.  I knew I was gay ever since I noticed the difference between a boy and a girl.  When I was younger, it puzzled me why it felt so natural for me to play dolls with girls, to play house, to play chinese garter and street games girls usually play.  It felt natural for me to admire big boys, not as heroes, but as something else, to admire them for their good looks and have undefined feelings for them. 

In a society where homosexuality is grudgingly accepted and somewhat tolerated, I am also unfortunate to belong to a very conservative family.  I hid inside myself and became an introvert. I loved cooking and sewing and decorating but my creativity and artistry for those things were curtailed early.  Instead, I did things that didn’t really matter to me, “manly” things that would make my father and brothers proud of me. I tried to be part of a basketball team, joined the boy scouts and even trained to be an officer in CAT.  I became an actor; hiding behind a mask that no one would ever suspect.  Perhaps I was so good at hiding; my family never really wanted to believe they have a son who is gay.  What they did not know was that I just learned to suppress the real me.

So I became an obedient son, masculine in front of the people but deep inside, a little boy confused about his sexual identity.  Mind you, I don’t dream of becoming a girl.  I don’t feel like I’m a girl trapped in a man’s body.  No.  I never dreamed of becoming a woman, I am quite comfortable with my physical sexuality.  I am gay, I just prefer men over women.  Girls are my friends, but men, I admire and dreamed of every night.  I kept these feelings to myself until now.  Nobody knew; not even my closest friends and best friend. Sometimes, for fun, I slipped and let the real me show.  People of course get confused.  But I neither confirm nor deny my sexuality to other people. I became a very good actor, I kept everyone guessing.

What am I up to do next?  I act, talk, and walk like any man does but I am not happy.  I courted and had relationships, but hey who was I kidding.  It was unfair to me and to the girls.  Outside, I seemed like a very content satisfied man in his early twenties, but behind that mask was the real me trying to come out.

Truth to tell, I was envious of gays had already come out.  Gay guys who were having fun, having relationships with the people they most preferred to be with.  But there I was, locked behind a façade of a successful and masculine me.  But I wondered how long would this go on?  How long could I keep it within me?  The pain, the confusion, even the guilt of hiding behind a mask was enough to drive me to depression and suicide attempts.  There were times when I tried killing myself, believing that this would solve my problems, but I was gay enough to be weak and not do it.  But I really wanted to come out, to shout to the world and say, “Hey, it’s me, I am gay and I am proud of it.”

I needed to do something, or else my confusion and depression might make me really kill myself to end all these sufferings.  I could not go on living a lie.  But where was I to begin?  How?  And what did gays do?  How did one make ladlad?  Oh yes, the sex thing.  That was foremost on my mind.  I wanted to do it.  I wanted to prove to myself that I would be happy doing that.  That was what had really been occupying my mind.  I thought then that sex and homosexuality was really like bread and better.  I could not be one without doing the other.  That time, I thought I was right, that my principle on sex was it was an integral part of expressing your sexuality.  And so I planned.  I bought books authored by Margarita Holmes and gay anthologies like “Ladlad”.  I read them to learn and somehow find an answer to clear my confused mind.  There were times when I thought of changing, of sticking to a straight heterosexual life. 

Alas, I became more engrossed and desperate to come out.  But I didn’t know anyone I could talk to.  Yes I knew of gay people, but how could I approach them?  How would I talk to them?  Was there a way that I could maintain my decency and get to know the things I would like to know as being gay?  Would my physical appearance, behavior change?  Were there organizations?  Support groups I could join?  I was so afraid of how people even my kabaros would accept me.

Then I saw them in the Internet.  In my first ever exposure to the Internet, I found out one very important fact: I am not alone.  There are thousands (perhaps millions) of gays around the world.  They go by different names, bisexual, gay, top, bottom, passive, aggressive, GWM (gay white man), GAM (gay asian man), msm, faggot, gay, homo, potato queen, rice queen and so on but these names  really boil into one, men who prefer the same sex.

I dived in, I soaked up all the information.  If I am going to come out, I would like to come out in style.  I chatted with Filipino gays and asked myself, is this really what I want to be?  So I said to myself, I have to experience the gay stuff and see what’s in it for me.  Would I still be a gay if I don’t go through gay activities?  Would I enjoy coming out in the open, one who openly acknowledged his sexuality to the public?

So I planned, and talked and chatted with people wise enough and gay enough to help poor me discover the world of homosexuality.  And my 24-hour journey to gay sexdom had begun.  Should I go out with the same sex, spend the day at the mall and try to pick some cute guy or go gay bar hopping.  At this point, I am not saying that being gay is doing all these things, but for me, these things helped me then define who I am, and what I would become.

The first thing on my agenda was to meet one of the internet chatters, who in my weeks of searching, questing and surfing in the internet had helped me.  Indeed, he and I became close in the cyberspace and said it was about time for an eb (eyeball session) or a meeting.  Nervous and wary, I arranged to meet him at a 24-hour fast food restaurant.  He was a nice, clean-looking professional and all.  Dressed in casual outfit, I never could imagine he was gay.  I mean, he was not obvious.  And when we talked, there was never a hint in his voice that he was gay.  We talked about his past experiences with girls and boys.  Through him, I found out that exploring at this age is really natural.  He made me so comfortable that I knew he was the right person that I could trust.  Needless to say, as early as 7 am, I lost my virginity to him in a motel in Pasig.  I never did imagine I would even be in a motel.  Never in my wildest dream did I imagine that I would be checking in.  We did everything gays do in bed and this was certainly one of the experiences I won’t forget.  At 10 am, after a snack in the same fast-food resto, we parted ways.  We agreed to keep in touch and update each other about our lives.  Even if this was only a one-night (day) stand, I didn’t regret it.  He opened my eyes to the joys of sex.  But where would I go next? 

I have heard of theaters where gays hang out.  Somewhere in Pasay, Quiapo, Recto, Cubao and Espana, there are such theaters that show sleazy movies and the patrons doing whatever they wanted to do in it.  So I went to one.  It sure was an eye opener for me.  The stench, sweat, and smell of manhood were all there!  Definitely, the smell of sex was very evident.  It was dark and hot, and inside, all unimaginable things I didn’t know existed was played out in full force.  The movie was x rated, but no one paid attention to it, the people inside were doing worst sexual acts than what was shown in the movie.  I was neither disgusted nor excited.  I was there to see and feel, and experience the place.  But the heat was so overpowering, I had to get out. 

I had lunch at a mall along EDSA.  I was told that restrooms were a great pick up place.  I asked myself, am I charming enough to hook one this afternoon and experience the thrill of being picked up?  I didn’t have long to wait though, after fixing my hair for a minute and looking disinterested at the mirror, a guy sidled up to me and asked my name.  He looked decent enough, just like the guy I met in chat.  He was not obvious.  But looking at him through the mirror, my libido was active enough to know what he wanted.  I was not afraid then, so I agreed to accompany him to wherever he wanted to go.  For the second time in the day, well, you know what happened next.

But my adventure was not over yet, this guy, brought to a spa, or I think it was a bathhouse, and saw what I saw in the movie theater replayed but this time, played out all wet.  This was much groping, touching, meaningful glances, huddling and pairings. 

Later on, the guy and I had dinner at a fine-dining restaurant in Manila.  I got to know him better.  He was on prowl for a serious relationship but he got tired of waiting.  Life for him consisted of one man after another.  He had his stories to tell.  Through him, I realized that the world I am getting into is such a lonely place.  At 9 pm, I asked him to take me to a gay bar.  I want to see what the fuss is about it.  Well, if you saw Macho Dancer, Sibak and Burlesk King, that’s there is all to it.  Of course there are gay bars that are more vulgar, but this was enough for me, seeing naked boys gyrating on the stage with old men, screaming faggots and closet queens ogling at them.

At eleven pm, this guy took me to a bar in Malate.  Malate was very alive and kicking.  With bars all around, we picked our bar and went in.  Bare-chested men were dancing on a stage, men were kissing.  The bar was noisy.  I could see that this was yet another place to pick up a guy.  I flirted with men who flirted with me, stole meaningful glances and made plans to see them later and do the wildest things I could dream of.

By two am, after much booze and smoke I said goodbye to the guy and decided to go home.  But this was not to be.  I walked or rather strolled, and Malate, like Quezon Circle, Recto and such, is like a shopping place where all kinds of studs are displayed and bodies can be bought.  There are those who looked innocent wearing that “I am doing this because I have no choice” look, and those with haughty eyes that say “you want me, you’ll regret not to have me”.  They all had their own stories to tell, it’s up to you to believe them or not.  They were clad in different attires, from tight-fitting clothes to the usual daily wear.  How did I know that they’re on the prowl?  Well, they just roamed around that particular street, catch your eye, wink, and sometimes make flirtatious remarks at you.

At three am, after much roaming and judging and searching, I wanted to pick one up, not because I wanted to have sex with him, but to complete the night and experience how picking one up is done.  It was very easy pala.  I sidled up to a particularly good looking one (actually I really felt sorry for him).

“Are you free”, I asked

“Yeah” he said simply.

So this is easy, “for how much”

“P500.00”

I don’t know if that’s expensive or what, I don’t know how to do it right, but I felt I had to bargain…until we came to a price both agreeable to us.  And yes, I did it again.

At five am, sore as I was, tired and quite groggy, I finally went home. I was quite in a high mood with all the things I did.  Did I really do those things?  So what now?  I did what a typical gay would do…was this it?

At least, the physical craving for a man was satisfied.  Imagine, doing it with three men all in one day.  Oh yeah, don’t worry, I was a responsible gay.  I know safe sex.  This much I learned early on that STD, HIV and AIDS are passed on more easily in sexual encounters.  I came out and did things never in my whole life I will do.  And what did I learn?  Will I go back to those places?  Was my curiosity satisfied?  How do I view the homosexuals, how do I see myself now? 

I learn that gays are people too, with various personalities and characters that are admired and despised.  There are so many things to understand about homosexuality, and I am just beginning to learn and accept this.  Sex is more meaningful if this is not only a body part inserted into another body part as Dr. Holmes would say.  Being gay is not all about sex.  Sex is not enough.  I have to experience these things to take away the cobwebs that blinds me about my understanding of homosexuality.  Gays are misunderstood.  Not all gays are like the parlor-screaming type.  There are lots of gays out there who are decent, who contributes to the well-being of the society.  There are doctors, teachers, lawyers, businessmen, computer engineers and more.  There are family men, they might be your brother, your cousin, your favorite actor.  They are people too.  Like me, some of them are afraid to come out because of the labels that might be put to them.  They try to live their lives as normally as possible, and me…am trying to do just that.

Yes, indeed I am gay but I am not ready to be one.  I am comfortable with who I am, I don’t need to shout to the world I am gay.  Guess I am not really ready to shout “Hey, it’s me, I am gay and proud of it.”  Let people judge me, but hey, they don’t feed me.  Yes I am gay, and I will do my best to be myself and let this be my strength.  But you know, at this point, ladlad is really not for me yet. 

My 24 hour experience is not enough to be really sure, to be really ready.  One day does not make me strong to face the public.  I know I would be facing lots of questions and criticisms.  My family will not understand.  I may lose some or most of my friends.  Emotionally, I am just coming to terms with myself.  I haven’t yet reconciled my mind and my heart with my sexuality.  Professionally, people at work may evaluate me in terms of my sexuality.  But most of all, I am afraid.  I am afraid that no one will get to love me and be my friend once they got to know who I really am.  My family may disown me.  I may lose my job.  But above all and most importantly, I don’t like to lose myself.

My 24-hour experience happened fifteen years ago. Since that day, there was never a need to publicly come out. I realized that in today’s technological age, despite the traditional culture I was brought in, the society’s acceptance need not be blatant.  I never came out to my family but over the years, I know they know that I know they know that I am gay and it has never been an issue. I have brought guys home, been in relationships and my family as treated me the same as before. At work, I have been to different companies where my gayness is an advantage.

In the end, I may have been fortunate not to experience the discrimination others of my same orientation experienced. At the very least, I am glad that I am accepted not for what I do or who I prefer to have sex with, I am accepted for who I am. My value as a person is not dependent on what other people may perceive me to be, it is how I put value to myself. And that is how, and most importantly, I never lose myself.

Finding Mr. Right

Is it right to find Mr. Right? But actually, the real question is, is there a Mr. Right, not just for me but for everyone? If there is, then, it is not pointless to look and find him. And since my original question is, is it right to find Mr. Right, I am assuming that there exist a Mr. Right for me. Or should I make one perhaps? Or be one?

Since I was aware that I am different from everyone else, that happiness is not only self-derived, I have been longing for someone to be my special someone. Maybe it was culture or social conditioning, but the point is – we look for other people for validation and confirmation. I wouldn’t want to be a hypocrite and say that I don’t look for other people for love. Yes, it is the greatest love of all, learning to love one’s self but deep in my heart, it is greater to love and be loved by someone else.  Since I came to this conclusion, I realized that longing for that somebody else hurts. It hurts to feel the emptiness of your heart that no matter what I do, I could not just fill it up. It pains to realize that after all the search, after one relationship after another; there is still the void of emptiness. Each relationship brings new insights and the realization that I haven’t met the one; the someone that would make my life different.

The one, Mr. Right. How could I find the Mr. Right of my life? I have tried going out for dates, meeting new people. I have been used, abused, manipulated and terribly hurt, only because I thought that if I only give-in, I will have Mr. Right. Talk about being desperate huh! But still I haven’t met him. Some may argue that to meet Mr. Right, one has to be one. One has to be the right person too. And I believe I am. I am caring, passionate, romantic and giving. I am sincere, thoughtful and sensitive. I appreciate life, I love fun. I am a good conversationalist, understanding, and smart. I am simple, and yet complicated. I am not a high-maintenance person. I admit, I am not perfect, but who is? I am not looking for Mr. Perfect; I am looking for Mr. Right.

Mr. Right for me is someone who, unabashedly, will sing me a song or recite to me a poem he had written. He isn’t necessarily good looking but pleasantly clean and neat. He is confident, and supportive, understanding and romantic. He is adventurous, encouraging me to try new things and discover new activities. Sometimes, he is quiet, preferring a night on the bed, talking. Or holding hands at the movies. He would enjoy going to the beach once in a while and with me, wait for the sun to set, the moon and stars to come out, sleep on the sand with the waves of the sea lulling us to sleep only to be awakened by the sunrise. Or an evening where he will cook pasta and set the table with candles and have dessert while listening to Josh Groban’s version of “Broken Vow.”

We could have the same taste in music, food, books; or not. He can be very complicated, and I would cherish every moment in my life I’m sharing with him understanding his complexity. He could be simple and I would enjoy every moment of simple life, as long as it’s with him. I’ll share with him every thought, dreams and aspirations I have.

He could be of my age, or older. He could be all of the above… or not, again, I’m not looking for Mr. Perfect, just the one, someone who would feel right to me.

The task of finding Mr. Right may be fruitless, but at least no one can accuse me of not having tried at all. I may be getting older, but definitely, I am getting wiser. If three years from now, Mr. Right haven’t come along yet, I wouldn’t give up but I will go on with my life. The important thing is, aside from Mr. Right who hasn’t come yet, there’s another one who loves me as I am. Me.

Another (Love) Story

CLOSURE
“Lynn! Wake up!”

Lynn stared at the concerned face of her best friend Erica uncomprehendingly. She had been crying for over an hour and Erica had been consoling her ever since she arrived at her house. Erica had been worried when she got a call from Lynn telling her to come over. Lynn had been sobbing and incoherent over the phone. When Erica arrived, Lynn just burst into tears. She was too distraught to talk and all she could do was cry.

“Is it Josh? Did he hurt you? What did he do to you?” Erica demanded. She checked Lynn’s face, arms and legs for bruises. “If I know Josh, he hurt you didn’t he?”

“No he didn’t. Josh would never hurt me physically,” stammered Lynn. “Yeah right, he wouldn’t hurt you physically but mentally and emotionally, he has been bruising you. How long could you take his abuse?” countered Erica.

“I love him… more than I love myself!” Lynn simply declared. “Stupid love! What has it brought you? Misery instead of happiness! You don’t even know yourself anymore!” shouted Erica.

“I was happy once…”

***
Lynn met Josh in an advertising agency. She was applying as a copywriter and Josh was already employed in the agency as a marketing executive. She didn’t actually like the agency. It was a very small company; the salary offered to her was way below from what she received from her last employment. She was ready to turn down the offer when Josh came in the room where she was being interviewed to get something. Their eyes met, and for the first time, Lynn experienced a jolt of electricity. Josh held Lynn’s eyes for seven seconds but for Lynn it was a lifetime. She knew that deep inside her heart, she is destined to be with this man. 

The interviewer didn’t notice the exchange between the two but noticed Josh inside the room. Josh, being naturally friendly, came over and introduced himself. “Hi! I’m Joshua Martinez. I hope you’ll accept the job ‘coz we badly need a good writer!”

After chit-chatting for a while, Joshua left them to conclude their interview. Maybe it was Josh’s friendly approached that finally decided her to accept the job, maybe it was more.

***
“Were you really happy? Josh has been using you and you blindly allowed yourself to be used” continued Erica.

“He loves me” defended Lynn. “Yes, he loves you the same way he loves the other girls in his life. Can’t you get it through your head that Josh has been cheating on you from the beginning?”

“He made me happy…”

***
Lynn started her job at the agency as a copywriter. She interacts with the marketing executives to fulfill the creative requirements of their clients. She found herself relating with Josh more often compared to the other marketing executives. She don’t know if Josh constantly talked to her because of the job requirements of their clients but sometimes, she found herself talking with Josh about non-work related matters. Josh often took his lunch with Lynn, and sometimes, waited for Lynn before going home.

Lynn had never had a boyfriend her entire life. Despite her innate charm and beauty, she never entertained suitors when she was in college. She was very serious finishing her course that she graduated cum laude from the state university. Her parents thought that now that she finished college, she would allow herself to fall in love but Lynn was as workaholic as she was when she was studying. Suitors gave up on her until one by one; no one was patient enough to wait for her. For Lynn, it wasn’t really a great lost. She enjoyed her independence and was happy pursuing her career, until Josh came along.

***
“You’re an intelligent woman! How can you be so stupid when it comes to love?” continued Erica.

Lynn didn’t know how to answer her friend’s accusations. Was it because she truly loves Josh she could turn a blind eye to his foolishness? Or was it because she believes she’s giving herself a chance to experience being in a relationship?

***
A month working with Josh; Lynn felt different. She felt more alive than before. She looked forward to coming to the office and seeing Josh. She enjoyed having lunch and coffee breaks with him. Whenever Josh was out of the office for client calls, she missed him. On the other hand, Josh was showering her with attention different from their officemates. He constantly forwarded Lynn text messages every morning and never fails to call her up at night.

Lynn, unused to falling in love, found herself falling for Josh. They were working together two months already when Josh invited Lynn for dinner. Lynn thought it was just another friendly eat-out when Josh took her to a romantic restaurant in Intramuros. After dinner, they took a walk along the breakwaters of Roxas Blvd. when Josh suddenly asked Lynn what she felt for him. Speechless, Lynn was caught surprised with this sudden though unexpected question. Lynn was dreaming of this to happen for weeks and now that she was confronted with it, she didn’t know how to respond. For once, her being a writer failed her to put words in answer to Josh’s question. 

Josh took Lynn’s hand and declared, “Lynn, you have been special to me. The first time I had laid eyes on you, I knew that we are destined to be together. Will you be my girl?” With stars in her eyes, Lynn said yes.

***
“He courted you but behind your back, he already has a girlfriend! He has been fooling you all along! How could you be so blind?” berated Erica.

Maybe because I was so lonely I wanted someone to love me, thought Lynn to herself. Maybe because I was really stupid I was blinded by his sweetness, his caring. Did he really love me? 

***
Their first month as a couple was the happiest for Lynn. She was more inspired and it showed in her work. Her boss commended her with her progress in work, her family noticed her glow. She thought that theirs was a perfect relationship. She could have given everything to Josh for Josh made her happy. On their third month anniversary, she gave him the greatest gift she could give, her expression of love.

A few days after that very intimate night, Lynn noticed Josh slightly change. He forgot to call her at night and sometimes never sent her text messages. In the office, he was constantly out for client calls. Thinking that this was just normal, that Josh was just busy with work, Lynn never made an issue out of it.

One ordinary day, Lynn received a text message from Josh. It read: “Honey, I miss you so much, I am looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. I love you.” Lynn knew the message is not for her. She was never “honey” to Josh. Josh called her “baby”, that’s what they call each other. They don’t have a date tomorrow, they have a date tonight. 

Lynn felt her world fall apart. Finally, she began to understand Josh peculiar behavior. Why he never invited her to his house, why he never introduced her to his friends. Why sometimes, when she asked him about the person constantly calling his cellular phone, he ignored her and changed the topic immediately.

She confronted him that very night but he denied it. Josh said that the message was intentionally sent to her just to see how she would react. Maybe because Lynn loved him so much, she believed. After that incident, Josh was extra sweet and caring with her.

On Valentine’s eve, Lynn received two text messages from Josh. The messages were identical except for the first words of each message. In the first message, it was “Baby, I am happy to have you this Valentine’s Day.” On the second message, it read “Honey, I am happy to have you this Valentine’s Day.”

Lynn didn’t know how to react to this anymore. She just felt tired, emotionally empty. She found herself dialing the phone and asking her best friend Erica to come to her house.

***
“Lynn! Wake up from this foolishness! You have to love yourself more than you love Josh. He has been fooling you from the beginning! Wake up!” Erica begged her friend.

“I really love Josh and it’s hard to let him go. I gave him my life, I gave him everything. But you are right. I have to let him go. I don’t want to, but I have to…I have to move on. Tomorrow may be difficult; I have to learn to love myself. I will have to hold on to the hope that life will be beautiful for me. I have to let go of the anger and bitterness this experience has brought me. I have to love myself, for my sake, and for the sake of my unborn baby” Lynn finally resolved.

Baguio Travels - is it still worth going there?

For the past few posts, I've shared the different sights and experience of the Panagbenga Festival. the question is, is it still worth going to Baguio? Definitely YES, but not during Panagbenga Festival so one can truly enjoy the climes. But if you insist on going there during the festival, make sure to follow my tips and visit Camp John Hay where it is not so crowded.

Given the choice, visit Baguio during the non-peak season or just before and after Panagbenga so you can truly enjoy the sights and cool weather.

Hirayamanawari,

Rob

Still Day 2 - The Floats of Panagbenga Festival Baguio Trip 2017

Before I go into the floats after our Camp John Hay hike, we checked out of Le Monet and transferred to Nearby Baguio Transient at Siapno Road, Pacdal.

Our taxi fare was just about Php60 but we missed the building because it has no signage. The building is just near the St. Joseph Church near Wright Park.

As soon as we arrived, the owners were very accommodating. Even giving us this calling card with the locations of famous Baguio spots:

So as you can see, it's walking distance to the church, Wright Park, Botanical Garden and the Mansion and a short jeepney ride to Mines View and Good Shepherds.

Here is our room good for 2 pax. Bring your own towel and toiletries but the room has hot water. No TV though :(

Since we were in the area, a visit to St. Joseph's Church and  Mines View first where we had lunch at a Bulalo place near the park's entrance:

There were so many people at Mines View that we forego going to Good Shepherd and bought some pasalubong's at Mines View instead. Then we took a jeep going back to Burnham Park to see the floats:

Again, so many people hahaha

Here are some of the best floats (or those that are still standing as some floats were plucked out of flowers already sadly :( )

Tired and hungry, we hiked up to Baguio Cathedral for Sunday mass and had Original La Paz Bachoy at the parking mall beside the cathedral:

That concludes Day 2.

Below are some other interesting sites I visited prior to Panagbenga:

Laperal House

Chocolate de Batirol

Will post a review of my overall experience tomorrow :)

Thanks for dropping by!

Hirayamanawari,

Rob