7-11

I took Laarni and Ihris to the LRT station before I started going home.

It was somewhat new for me to walk the expanse of Taft Avenue up to Pedro Gil alone. Oftentimes, you get to trek the vast domain of yourself only in solitude. You ponder on things you need to think about.

But I advise that such is hazardous.

It is much better to have workload from hell than to think about things not advisable to think about. The practice is exactly like scratching a scab. Signifies healing - the scab - but when you scratch it it bleeds again and you just made it worse. You revived the pain and the scab should start forming all over again.

I went to 7-11 and bought a jumbo classic hotdog. I brought out my things and started working on the darn humanities script for Roentgen. Every now and then I stare through the window and watch the phantasmagoria in front of 7-11. It wasn't really what you call "phantasmagoria" - it was just people passing by hastily and buses running along the avenue. I just like calling it phantasmagoria - it gives it some sort of majesty.

It just made me feel so bad.

I don't know if it's just the alienation to the situation. I don't know if it's the solitude. I just felt awful.

Good thing the hotdog tastes remarkably better than before.

I left the store at 6.

I could not stand the songs playing.

(-.-)

~Adieu~

Placido Mallari Penitente