Distance Between Two Bodies

I realise I haven’t written anything here lately. My notebook is full of daily notes though. Over time my relationship to this space has changed. But some things I want to re-start again. Just like writing, freely.

Finding a home in a new city is tough. But I never had that trouble before. I loved knowing that I was an outsider, and understanding that by default, there are things that I don’t know, and feelings that won’t fit. Over time, the outsider feeling took root, transforming into a longing for respite from the restlessness of moving. I do not take root in this city the same way I did for the others and for a time, that brought frustration. I miss the company of my friends who are scattered all over the world. I wanted to find them, to bump into them at the corner between streets that I walk these days. But I know distance does not make this possible.

I did not notice it at first, but slowly, my small joys felt like they were fading away. I began to miss the taste of rice in my mother’s home. That one that we eat every morning — sitting with my cousin, giving ourselves energy before we face the work day. I miss that. I do not know if it is a place that I miss — or the presence of a close distance between two bodies. I know now for sure, that it is not the sunset of Manila that I long for, but knowing that a few steps away I can knock on a door, and there would be someone I can invite to watch the light disappear from a window.

It had been raining the past few days. But yesterday, I looked out the window and saw this. It felt like someone smiled at me. I write this, as a way to smile back.