A Flower So White
Day 13 of Lockdown This morning I woke up with the familiar scent of flowers outside the window. They bloom at the onset of the humid season. Tiny buds accumulating like white specs in a sea of green. The quiet evening that passed seems to be of no difference with the revealing morning. It felt like nobody wants to make noise. Even the steps of few people on the street going around for their early task were muted. The newspaper boy doesn't come anymore, the street sweepers perhaps will make a shorter round. I was hoping the fish vendor will have mussels today, so I can cook it with ginger. Today I needed to hurry up to catch a shorter breadline for pandesal. Lockdown is almost in its second week now. Coffee was bitter. I opened my lines to social media to know the latest. And as the cyber world presented itself to me, I was hoping something to cheer about. Nope. the virus rages on, the crown of thorns still stuck in in the head of humanity. Or is it not the sword of Damocles? I re...
