the parade of fireflies going back and forth the cities of saints as the sky is illuminated by the darkest light of the universe entered my thoughts as i board the bus downtown.
the towering infrastructures of downtown’s imperial place is far beyond comparison to the miles long army of grass that bows and dances as you pass by them during the day or night.
i remembered that night, both of us sheltered and carried by one of the fireflies bearing the letters h and m. we were under my reversible benetton jacket. her right hand on my arm, her left on my right hand. eraserhead’s torpedo played on board. she planted her kiss to my lips.
i escaped from the jacket to breathe air. i faced the fog-moistened window. i saw more fireflies rushing outside. after a few minutes, the plantation of illuminated immobile structures of alabang replaced the view of the parade.