Nagmumunimuni
For a change, I studied at McDonalds Philcoa last nite. I noticed that whenever I study there the jeepney trip home would be either one of two scenarios.
If boredom and laziness get the better of me, I would usually leave the place at around 2am. All would be uneventful until we reach quezon avenue when the jeep would get livelier as beautiful women all made and dressed up (more of dressed down), would ascend the vehicle. The sight would just be delightful and the air would smell of their different perfumes. Yeap, even the driver, tired and weary, gets to smile, and would drive a little bit slower, if only to be close to heaven with these angels for a longer time. After getting enough of the wonderful display, I would pretend to be asleep while inhaling the scents that would waft through my senses, and being my nosy self, would listen in on their conversations. They would talk about their boyfriends, their customers, clothes and make up, but a common topic would be about sending money back home to their families. And I whisper a silent prayer for them.
A ride home at 4am would be a totally different experience. The women passengers are older and bigger than the women of quezon avenue. They do not wear chic clothes or make up or perfume. Instead, they have on them smelly aprons over worn out dusters, and nothing fancy on their faces but the lines that mark years of burden. In place of stylish bags are pails and styrofoam containers bearing fish or meat or vegetables to sell in the market. Their nails aren’t painted bright but are dirty and black. In place of high heels are worn out slippers under their callused feet. The men are mostly able bodied men working in construction sites. The only article they usually carry with them is a small towel to wipe their sweat. They do not chatter or tell stories as they travel but just by looking at them, you can tell their tales. They try to get as much sleep before the sun rises to have enough energy to last them the whole day. The driver also looks tired and continues to play depressing songs on the radio. I try to sleep so as not to feel sad. And I whisper a silent prayer for them.
We all try to survive in this vicious world.
If boredom and laziness get the better of me, I would usually leave the place at around 2am. All would be uneventful until we reach quezon avenue when the jeep would get livelier as beautiful women all made and dressed up (more of dressed down), would ascend the vehicle. The sight would just be delightful and the air would smell of their different perfumes. Yeap, even the driver, tired and weary, gets to smile, and would drive a little bit slower, if only to be close to heaven with these angels for a longer time. After getting enough of the wonderful display, I would pretend to be asleep while inhaling the scents that would waft through my senses, and being my nosy self, would listen in on their conversations. They would talk about their boyfriends, their customers, clothes and make up, but a common topic would be about sending money back home to their families. And I whisper a silent prayer for them.
A ride home at 4am would be a totally different experience. The women passengers are older and bigger than the women of quezon avenue. They do not wear chic clothes or make up or perfume. Instead, they have on them smelly aprons over worn out dusters, and nothing fancy on their faces but the lines that mark years of burden. In place of stylish bags are pails and styrofoam containers bearing fish or meat or vegetables to sell in the market. Their nails aren’t painted bright but are dirty and black. In place of high heels are worn out slippers under their callused feet. The men are mostly able bodied men working in construction sites. The only article they usually carry with them is a small towel to wipe their sweat. They do not chatter or tell stories as they travel but just by looking at them, you can tell their tales. They try to get as much sleep before the sun rises to have enough energy to last them the whole day. The driver also looks tired and continues to play depressing songs on the radio. I try to sleep so as not to feel sad. And I whisper a silent prayer for them.
We all try to survive in this vicious world.
posted by duke at 7:35 AM
5 Comments:
ser tsutsugamushi (o buo na yan),
sshhh, senti kunwari. trying hard. pinalitan ko pa music para lalong senti. hahahaha.
kaw talaga don, pag nagmunimuni, kakaiba. haven't heard the music though, ayaw gumana sa mozilla. see you soon at aral ka mabuti. pag mag MLE ako, turuan mo ko biochem ha.
This is a nice piece. Sensitive and keen- Loli
thanks for the comment loli. :)
haaaay... =)
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