A Room with a View

After a total of twelve and a half hours of being airborne and adrift in whiskey dreams, I have finally touched down to good ol' Manila.

Ah, home! Sweet home! Now, I'm just waiting for the sad, sad fact of having nothing to look forward to for the next couple of months, years even, to set in. But before I let the mushroom cloud of bleakness permeate my being, allow me to reminisce awhile about the astonishing view that welcomed my eyes everytime time I stepped outside my hotel balcony.

What, pray tell, awaits my eyes behind those curtains?

It really doesn't disappoint does it?

It gets even better when the sun retreats to its hiding place.

Whenever talks of dream houses or condominiums would come up between my friends and I, I'd always be vocal about my adamant need for a balcony. I don't necessarily have to enjoy the expensive view shown on those photos above. Looking at the tin roofs of my neighbors houses or trying my best to make out the silhouettes of buildings through the smog of the city will do. The main reason for my desire of a balcony isn't merely a shallow need of having a view while enjoying a calming cigarette break. Rather, it comes out of the desire to bask in the semblance of being on top of the world, of momentarily clutching a moment where it seems that anything and everything could be, and is, possible.

Moments like these rarely happen in this life. Most of them occur while intoxicated. So if a thing, a material object made of iron and cement can grant such moments, without alcohol or unmentionables catalysing there onslaught, who could blame me for desiring it?