The boy at at the far end of the train car kept looking behind him as if he were afraid or expecting someone and then she appeared in the glass door of the forward car and he rose and opened the door and let her in
Samar and Biliran should have christened my 2013. But with the arrival of a ball of white fur named Mango two days before my supposed trip, I canceled it to supervise her in my small place, to make her feel at home. It is amazing to note that it only needs a day to homify a kitten, unlike us humans. It sometimes takes us years, even an eternity, to feel at home.
Feather duster. Birdcage made of whispers. Tail of a black cat. I’m a child running With open scissors. My eyes are bandaged. You are a heart pounding In a dark forest. The shriek from the Ferris wheel. That’s it, bruja With arms akimbo Stamping your foot. Night at the fair. Woodwind band. Two blind pickpockets in the crowd.
Walkers are “practitioners of the city,” for the city is made to be walked. A city is a language, a repository of possibilities, and walking is the act of speaking that language, of selecting from those possibilities. Just as language limits what can be said, architecture limits where one can walk, but the walker invents other ways to go.—Rebecca Solnit,