Motorcycle engines roaring. Jeepneys zooming by, honking their horns. Busses and cars do the same. The aircon buzzes. The security guard blows his whistle. A train passes by.
The Vizcarra building along United Nations Avenue has an elevator that caters till the seventh floor. I took the stairs, two floors up. Everything around me was dusty, the floor, the walls, the boxes, the furniture, the paintings, the antiques. I don't remember what I was looking for. I don't remember if I ever found it. All I remember is hearing vehicles passing by outside the building and pushing a door open that had a sign that read "do not enter", and found the entrance to the rooftop which evoked a memory of confetti and fireworks, the night I was named the Capitana of Ermita during the feast of Nuestra Senora de Guia.
No comments:
Post a Comment