There are moments between people when something happens, something non-physical, non-verbal, but mystical. It often doesn't make sense within the normal considerations of what usually contributes to such connection with the key factors being time and shared experience.
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.
We are two 9-year-olds, sitting on the park bench waiting for the parade to pass by. Today is the first day of the most-awaited Town Fair. My best friend, Jessica and I couldn’t sleep for days busy imagining the sweet pink ice cream and blue cotton candy–-the kind that we only get to taste every Town Fair. They don’t usually sell these stuff here on any other days.
Her fingers kept on brushing through the long strands of my hair...
"Life can be tough sometimes... I understand what you are going through, but you’ll get over it and say: this too, shall pass."
Sweetly, she uttered those comforting words as my tears kept pouring like heavy rains in June.
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?
She stands by the bar next to me thinking what she will order next. She is drinking like crazy all-night and she wants something different.
The bartender smiles at her and asks, "What do you want, sweetie?"
Before the bartender come over, she had seen some bottles stocked near the corner where she stands. Now that the bar is busy, she figured she'd try something silly.
His walk from the water edge to the rock where I sit was like forever. Then, I felt his warmth, his skin lightly touching mine. He sat next to me. Gently, he took my hand, kissed it, and pressed it against his chest. I froze. I felt my hand sweat. The back of my hand could feel the rapid beating of his heart while he rubbed his palm on mine with his other hand.
I have become the suggestion of a stranger... the invited intruder.
Where is the phantom entrance to somebody’s somewhere?
I am fading from view.
I am nothing but a flicker.
I am nothing but a speck of dust, floating and shimmering in the air.
I am in the middle of it all just like you.
Lumalamig na naman ang ihip ng hangin sa disyerto. Taglamig na naman...
“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?”
Inside Joko Jun
Joko Jun features Filipinos from around the world... musicians, writers, photographers, and other creative people.