An epiphany from long ago

Almost all the kids I've played with when I was young had living rooms worth remembering. There was almost always a television, but there were various objects which seized my attention: the peculiarity of a roll-on deodorant stick, for example, or a set of oil pastels from someone's artsy brother. There are glass figurines, an entire wall of family pictures, a game of tetris spent the entire afternoon, or in the case of these two brothers with tocino-making as family business, a scene where they were stomping their feet on tubs of marinated pork. (They almost soaked their feet on ethyl alcohol prior to this. Although I see the fun in the job, I don't think I've ever considered telling my mother about their business.)

The other night, I suddenly had a jolt regarding a memory of this life-size painting from the living room of one of my closest friends' house with the capiz windows and yams at their backyard. Well, the painting featured a fisherman wearing traditional clothes of salakot and loose overalls, and a backpack of some sort for the bait, perhaps, and other equipment. All this with the sunset as backdrop, and the entire painting played on the silhouettes it casted.

At the end of the fishing rod, that which bears weight and which made an arc out of the rod, was a frog suspended in mid-air. I have never seen that friend again, or that painting, ever, but it occurred to me that night that, looking from a distance, the frog looked so human.