Perfection is impossible in this chaotic world. That's what they say. For when the days are bright and sunny, rain comes and that ruins the perfect morning. This is the formula that everyone knows about life and this makes us believe that everyone else look at life in the same way.
So, we squeeze our creativity and talent to weave a perfect silk that tells a story of sunny days and storms...
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.
She walks with modest curve, eyes recognizable and hair flowing. Her long, slender legs quietly seek out the ground, with one step gracefully before the other. Her hips sway from side to side like the soft melody of a Congo drum. Her luscious lips slightly curve into a small, secret smile, as she probably remembers of a private joke she had heard the day before.
"Mom, Father Dominguez called to tell you that the prayer meeting is about to start."
"Really? I think I better go now."
That’s my Mom, very Catholic and pious.
The outskirts of London have changed dramatically since I have set foot upon their cobbled streets. Now markets with dull, chipped paint stand amongst unkempt houses, forgotten by their owners who now only remember the address of the local pub. Monstrous barns and useless soil reside where dense thickets of grass once stood with white, milky flowers peeking though. The only things that remain unchanged are the decrepit streets waiting for unsuspecting travelers to fall into their nooks, and the boys hiding in the alleyways waiting to rob the unwary person.
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.
As I was resting my head on his shoulder, I felt a sense of security that I have never felt since my Dad died. His gentle strokes on my hair sent a feeling of oneness with him... as if he is an integral part of me, the one who completes me.
One day, Stevie was hard at work in his father's shop when he came across a most peculiar customer. It looked like a horse, but a jagged, bony, horn stuck out from the center of its brow. Its fur was flaming red. It had a bright golden mane, and a golden sickle and hammer was tattooed on its right back thigh.
Stevie asked, "What can I get you, kind sir?"
"Do you get paid as much money as the person who owns this shop?" The unicorn spoke with a hypnotic voice.
“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?”
The expectations, the disappointments, the successes, each negatively or positively traumatic, inciting our evolution of spirit in every aspect. I now know the true meaning of the word growing pains. Outgrowing situations and people, exceeding my wildest musings with the realities I encounter.
Joko Jun features Filipinos from around the world... musicians, writers, photographers, and other creative people.