A momentary opening of light..
For as long as I can remember, since my time living in the Japan exurbs at least, I have taken great pleasure in walks at the margins... where the urban reality intersects with remnant, often transitional pockets of nature. This is perhaps the root bitter (sweetness) that informs much of my writing: an awareness of imminent loss.
The Fabric that I had just begun to appreciate in Boracay, the flux between paradise and party people, is at the moment being razed, permanently lost. A sense of appreciation of something that is most conspicuous in its absence and which many do not have the time, resources, or temperament to appreciate. I know I am an outlier in this churning world of minimally checked growth. How to quantify quality of life of the masses, when the luxury condo is so controlled, lifelike?
Above: A momentary opening of light.. an old building razed next to the Sts. Peter and Paul Parish in Makati (Philippines banking and expat center) reveals a long hidden side of the church. A tribe of vagrant kids resides in the rubble. This momentary reveal will soon be subsumed by fresh girders for a taller building, relic hidden again. And the kids, they will move to the next site of demolition and imminent outsized growth.
Literary fans, I apologize. The clamor has been strong, the urge to know about Kyle, Dylan, Mustang, Sumuru. I have been trying to find a way forward, get to the parts of the story I have already mapped out. It is a bit like looking up a cliff face to a ledge and not quite knowing how to free climb there. I relish these moments when the writing slows in a way. Some call it writer's block, I call it long form meditation.... finding exactly how the story and characters relate through intuition, purposefully ignoring set pathways. That is the point in a way of Arisugawa Park.. layered depths, a sense of life that is not always neat. The struggle of getting up on some days. Hard to pull off in a serial novel, interesting to try.
Here, a walk on the margins along a long-tamed, pungent trickle of water. Let this gallery guide you through one of the hidden places in Quezon City I most enjoy:
The Fabric that I had just begun to appreciate in Boracay, the flux between paradise and party people, is at the moment being razed, permanently lost. A sense of appreciation of something that is most conspicuous in its absence and which many do not have the time, resources, or temperament to appreciate. I know I am an outlier in this churning world of minimally checked growth. How to quantify quality of life of the masses, when the luxury condo is so controlled, lifelike?
Above: A momentary opening of light.. an old building razed next to the Sts. Peter and Paul Parish in Makati (Philippines banking and expat center) reveals a long hidden side of the church. A tribe of vagrant kids resides in the rubble. This momentary reveal will soon be subsumed by fresh girders for a taller building, relic hidden again. And the kids, they will move to the next site of demolition and imminent outsized growth.
Literary fans, I apologize. The clamor has been strong, the urge to know about Kyle, Dylan, Mustang, Sumuru. I have been trying to find a way forward, get to the parts of the story I have already mapped out. It is a bit like looking up a cliff face to a ledge and not quite knowing how to free climb there. I relish these moments when the writing slows in a way. Some call it writer's block, I call it long form meditation.... finding exactly how the story and characters relate through intuition, purposefully ignoring set pathways. That is the point in a way of Arisugawa Park.. layered depths, a sense of life that is not always neat. The struggle of getting up on some days. Hard to pull off in a serial novel, interesting to try.
Here, a walk on the margins along a long-tamed, pungent trickle of water. Let this gallery guide you through one of the hidden places in Quezon City I most enjoy:
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