tikay aka "rose"

my preggy friend. weird.10 years ago, 5 years ago, a year ago we were laughing about it. how would she look like pregnant? eewww!!! but the most exciting discussion will always be the "how", the "making", the tooot.... hahahha! now she wears flower prints everyday. she wears it on her hair, around her neck, on her blouse, flower blouses, pants with flowers..she looks like a garden. but she's one happy bu-rose and she blooms like her flowers. ako kaha? when kaha ko mahimong garden?siguro kung ako maburos lasang ang akong theme. hehehe.haay. :)

blue skies and foggy mornings

i love the mountain. ever since.
and i love the people.
they console me.
cloud.
sky.
dew.
fog.
yeah, i might name my child after you.

sisig.alimango,vodka

ive got nothing to say.weird.i've been wanting to write on this blog for ages. but i dont seem to be depressed enough to do so. or i'd feel so senti im afraid id say too much, too soon.

i've been reading terry mcmillan again. the woman's optimism rubs off on me. i think im a little crazy. she makes me crazy. she can read my mind. i am stella.

If you forget me

IF YOU FORGET ME

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda