I bike in the afternoons. It’s the best time to sweat it all out and feel tired for the rest of the evening, eating just little, like leftovers. At 4PM, along streets named after birds (I couldn’t remember much of their names), there were two men in formal wear in front of this house. It’s a block away from the house I liked the most, the one with the thickest vegetation—the type where you couldn’t see much but dense branches of trees and vines snaking its way through the fences and the gate.

In front of the house, these two men were an odd sight: they were standing with their bikes nearby, and one of them was reading a verse from a red leather bible. As I bike past the area I noticed a man inside the house, in his house clothes, doing his gardening with a hose or was it a pail? The tone of their conversation seems like they’re debating over verses, truths, experiences.

Biking seemed to me the only good way to exercise. I can’t imagine doing it in other ways: gyms are one of the last places I could imagine myself blending in, next to churches (but probably not temples) and banks. Lately I get this feeling, this heavy feeling that I just have to get out of the house every afternoon, to get some fresh air, which the subdivision has, no doubt, because of its geographic location: the apartment is just a stone’s throw from hundreds of hectares of age-old fish ponds and fishermen living in stilts and huts and lighthouses. By Sunday morning, whenever I stroll with my son, both of us could see nature unfolding: a thick flock of birds swirling around the fishponds, diving and lunging at their breakfast. From where we stand, the scene is worth filming, and during the processing, one ought to add a background of orchestra playing soft, gradual music. Graceful and exhilarating.

Then the trees.

1. The pictures above were taken June of last year, or maybe July. Come to think of it, maybe I should take more pictures... It never occurred to me that my hybrid camera I've owned for four years still takes good pictures. At least in my parameters. (Technically, they call it a bridge camera, since it's a cross between a point-and-shoot and a DSLR, but relatively cheaper, lighter, and... well, less powerful than the latter.) I still dream of owning a Leica or those lightweight Fujifilm hybrids but both are very expensive.

2. Also, the fourth picture, that watch tower (or what I fondly call a lighthouse) was dismantled already. I just found out last month, when I started biking again. It explains why in the picture, the lighthouse seems to have harnesses of some sort attached to it. Then another question: why did they have to? I did have this fantasy of talking my way to its owners--the fishermen nearby--and hopefully persuade them, after drinking with them, to hoist myself up to that lighthouse and take good pictures.