And so there we were at the last hour of being together. James' stuff has already been loaded in the truck that would bring him to his new home in Mandaluyong, while my stuffs were being loaded in our Tamaraw FX. Sealdi's transpo was still on its way to Project 6 so it was clear that she would be the last person to leave the house. I thought that it would be the end of an 8th - month bonding with people, who a year before were mere strangers to me. But in the end, it turns out that I would find my liberation under their wing.
Though the Bohemian Dream has finally been replaced by a new doctrine that says "live to survive," there comes a time when little snippets of that past reemerges from our long mundane lives we live nowadays. The last time the three of us saw each other was during my father's funeral. The last time we dined together was three years ago.
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Amidst cluttered bits
of Ulysses and the Whores,
we crawl... creep towards
the shores, seas of stripes
of forbidden nests.
- the broken tanka of the orange couch and the itchy creatures, dj
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Our dinner at Trellis last Friday proves that no matter where we go, there will always be an avenue that leads up in each other's company. The comfort and easyness we felt when we were still housemates remains the same, despite the passing of time. Indeed, James was right when he said that Sealdi will always be the closest woman who came into his life. Their friendship is one of the longest I've seen in this lifetime.
As for me, I would always look up to James as my mentor... while Sealdi would always remain the first straight woman to accept my homosexuality. Imagine the lives we have lived together under one roof.
No wonder, my heart always says a home can be found when the three of us are together: looking back, life has become more meaningful to me, when I found shelter under our single pod.
* photo stolen from Sealdi's blog
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