In Deluge, in Drenched Sunrise

Channeling the cold and the darkness, one of whose greatest writers chronicled the Karamazovs, and the plight of the man who killed with an axe, and spent an entire novel ruminating on it.

A dream: I reach into my jacket pocket and feel paper. Lots of it. I pull several hundred thousands’ worth of checks and blue thousand-peso bills. The first thought that crosses my mind is that I finally have enough money to update my toy collection. The second is that I have enough to adopt a panda. I am considering a third option when an explosion of thunder, way too close for comfort, wakes me up.

A contemplation: Noah should have been Filipino. But then the ark would have probably been improvised. On a more serious note, though, I wonder what his family’s cabin fever must have felt like, considering they were stuck for more than a month.

A question: Would not a request for psychological testing for attempting to prove psychological incapacity in the context of marital duty fall on its face due to the fact that obviously, nobody would agree to being tested for such?

An idleness: Bed weather, they call this. Cuddle weather. Snuggle weather. Giggle-under-the-sheets weather. Notice that except for the first, these imply the need for at least one another to appreciate the chill.

A theory: If time is but another measurement, another distance albeit existing in another dimension, then the time we have spent apart from each other is merely but a distance. And what is distance, if not eventually reachable? It seems that absence, after all, makes the heart grow fonder.

A dilemma: I am too cold a person, am too disdainful of humanity in general. The worst part is that I am fully aware of it. As if some part of me is waiting for somebody out there to prove that other people are actually worth committing to. Additionally, being too immersed in law seems to only serve to dampen one’s faith in human nature.

So much water outside. So many thoughts inside.

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