Three Cursed Hours

Three cursed hours. Three hours and my life is disoriented. I do not even know how to end this paragraph after two glasses of vino rosso and three spent cigarettes.

Although those hours crippled me in some way, I would not take it back.

I felt fate played a good one on me this time. I took a year of sabbatical from the monotony of work and took solace from different shores and wondered about a crazy man who would leave the city and live simply. I gave up on it. Only to meet him on my last night of my sabbatical year.

We only have three hours.

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

I met him but I am bound to leave.

How could he know the right introduction. He could have introduced himself as what he does for a living and I wouldn't be so drawn to him. But he introduced himself as the crazy man who left the city to live in Bora and I finally met the man I wondered about all year long. Just when I'm ready to let it go.

I'm back in Manila. But my thoughts are like little sailboats that are lifted from their anchors and the wind blows them farther from the shore from where I am and sails closer to where he is. But I am just dreaming. The wind is not an ally but a temptress. A treacheous one.

In reality, my fascination is just that. In reality, im the crazy one not him. In reality, I do not consider those hours cursed but enchanted.

Fate is fate but it was I who smiled and it was him who ran after me.

I wouldn't have it any other way.