This morning, I woke up and knew things were not going to be different. Routine routine: get out of bed, move laptop from bedroom floor to my little table outside my door, grab my towel, pad to the kitchen to boil water for my coffee (how could I have forgotten: I need a new coffee maker!), and jump in the shower. Make coffee, go back upstairs, brush my bangs, check to see if the lover is online, then light my first cigarette of the day. The time should be 930am. Usually, it’s 10am. It’s like this everyday. It’s nice.

My neighborhood is ugly but I love it. My bedroom window doesn’t have a view except for walls walls rundown walls with the paint peeling off but sometimes when I am lucky, I can see the moon from where I lie before going to sleep.

When I wake up and stand next to my window and look up, this is what my camera sees:

This is what you look like through my eyes:

Oh, Tindalo Street. The dull colors with the occasional pops of gaudy yellow (Angel’s Hamburger, what’s up) and rusted ornaments never bothered me. The jeepneys that pass, speed, and roar through (quite rudely!) this largely residential area are something I have learned to live with. I am no longer wary when I walk home at night. The lady who does my nails and her co-workers recognize me. I used to get cat calls when I first moved here over year ago; often from someone on their home’s second floor. The lover would tell me: “I’ve got to get you out of there!” and “hemorrhoid cream!” But they have stopped and I am glad; I am one of them now. But cuter.

(I still miss Katipunan, though.)

I have a lot of photos of myself, on my bed, this morning. When there’s nothing interesting outside your windows…

Hello.