Stories, and then Some...

once again the city is awash in the glittering lights that signal the season. nobody can escape but be somehow moved. there is something in the dance of those colors each time the sun goes down that everyone anticipates.

perhaps it is that promise of joy, since the season seems to be always heralded by high hopes. everything seems to look, sound and feel better. everyone talks about the spirit of the season. everybody sings about snow-cold weather in the middle of the broiling Philippine sun and laugh about not being able to get much presents out of everybody else.

but it's a few days past Christmas.

to walk these cold streets in the silence of midnight is to see the sadness of lights hanging limp on branches of trees. it is when they flicker uselessly and needlessly; the season has come and gone and we are burdened by the drudgery of real life once again.

to dance unappreciated. to know that you have outlived your usefulness. to dance desperately savoring the few remaining dregs left of what happiness the season could offer. to dance in silent midnights like these, a final midnight perhaps since tomorrow the show might end.