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Posts Tagged ‘Rain’

It’s the second day of the Kidlat Awards in Boracay. And for the second day, it’s raining. The sun comes out, a brief decoy of hope, and then the clouds move in. The beach looks inviting, nevertheless, and I look enviously at people who remembered to bring jackets, because the wind is chilly and damp.

Many of the creative delegates fly in today. We’re at Seawind, where the judging is being held. In a couple of minutes, we’ll convene at the cabana facing the beach to evaluate the Young Creatives’ work. I did get a chance to walk down the beach this morning, when the sun was playing nice, and Cirio and I made our way to d’Mall so I could buy a charger and he could find an internet cafe. d’Mall has been joined by d’Wall and d’Street, and doubtless there were other contractions I missed.

Tonight at Guilly’s, there’ll be welcome cocktails for the creative delegates and Brian Cua will do the DJ honors, which is always (put Martha shawl on) a good thing.

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Good morning, rain.

Because of you, the building powers-that-be cancelled this morning’s fire drill. No longer will we be mustered away from the comfort of our cubicles, instructed to briskly walk down twenty flights of stairs and herded shivering and whining out into the wet streets while fire trucks answer theoretical alarms and firemen rescue imaginary victims.

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the rain sheeting, careening crazy down the windshield. A splitsecond later, as the car moves forward, the ears receive the bounty of sound, the pitter too soon after the patter.

I imagine slow rain to have vowels like long e and long i, but a monsoon downpour does away with all the vowels, and insists on rapid-slurred consonants, kkkkk ppppp. The ride to the office gives me more than ample time to imagine the outposts of the language of rain, as traffic is an inch a minute. I see a man stalled on his bicycle, leaning against a parked car, too weary to struggle the last few meters to the waiting shed. The couple in the taxi in front of me ignore the rain, the jam, the taxi driver sneaking peeks at them in his rearview mirror. It is a rain-bleak morning, but they flutter their fingers on each other’s cheeks and make their own sunshine.

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