Short days, long years

"Tandaan mo 'tong araw na 'to," my father said as the shadows of trees brushed our faces. After four years, it will be over, he said, and you will look back to how that day the grass was strikingly green, how it seared the eyes, how it was left blind and forgot that black used to mean life with eyes closed.

Corp speak

At Suvarnabhumi airport was this facial parlor with the smell reminding me of those infrared wands that those Chinese 'dermatologists' in Canal Street pat on faces, humming and buzzing, and smelling like an overheating hair iron and fried wire. I never understood what the wand was for, or what its contribution was to the entire process.