The dogs howled ravenously last night, a cacophony of cries that startled me from a long overdue slumber. I find myself catching glimpses of the Pacific; the air, filled with mildew and humidity; the neglected buildings bring some strange, reminiscing draw to my consciousness.
My pace is beginning to slow. Appreciation of a strangers smile. A knowing glance; humanity proving that we are, indeed, all the same species, despite such superficial separations. Regardless of the transmissions of thought, it can still penetrate, can still radiate, silently.
There is a wonderful, gentle demeanor here, one that I have been searching for a long time. The maroon cloaked monks wander up to the facade with their alms bowls nestled in their arms, like a small child seeking safety.
The low, grey clouds float, dance, over the decaying colonial city.
The sounds of the laborers, metal on metal, fill the air;
unintelligible talk, what is probably the joys, laughter, tears, and sorrows,
that fill us all,
then nothing.
