Félix Vallotton (Swiss, 1865-1925), Route de Sainte-Anne et le Faron, 1925. huile sur toile, 81 x 60 cm.
Medyo mukhang tanga but what the heck, let’s share the pighati! Hahahaha
I’ve been here before. Train to taft. Buses. Buses heading to the coast. From the coast, to you. I’ve been here before. Coast in the absence of what a coast would look like. Coast where the people don’t know what a coast would’ve looked like. Coast that exists in the terminal’s dreams, in the people’s terminal dreams, in the terminal people’s dreams. I’ve been here before. I’ve lived through my lies just to go see this coast. This coast; that became a metaphor. A symbol. A Feeling. Something rebellious, something sad. Something comforting. Comfort from the coast that didn’t look like a coast at all. Where an abandoned mall resides. And people brood over just to get to their loved ones. With terminal dreams in this terminal’s dream.
I’ve been here before, and I wouldn’t want to know if I would ever get tired of passing by this kind of coast. The only coast I’d want to dream of, with you in this certain dream. The coast where I pass by to get to you.
It was a slice of happiness. It was bliss, that bus ride. That bus ride with you. It was raining the whole time. It rained hard. We looked out, the city, smudged. We looked out the window. We looked out. Passing by. We were passing by. We looked out with tired eyes. We were happy.
16 of August. This bus ride, this memory. One of the things I cling to. One of the things I will cling to. One of the memories. I would not forget. I cannot just forget.
Must we be extremely emotional.
No no no nope i mean sige nice di nila alam sobrang chaotic namin hahaha o well u guys nope were not cute fuk yall now u know bitchez