𝑨 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑻𝒐 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑽𝒐𝒊𝒅 [ 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑 ]

To My Favorite Home

⸙ Golden sunlit sky and sandy toes. A glass of vodka on hand and a camera on yours. Foreign place, secret year. ⸙

I wasn't fond in moving one place from another in just a snap- but we did that. From trudging and admiring the aesthetic pleasure of the gallery we visited on a countryside, to dancing on bikinis with the fire dancers by the beachside and I could tell that it was your stamping ground and lastly, to that place where the full view of the city could be seen and fireflies dancing through the nightglow. Us, clamped down on the hood of your car, vodka on my hand and a camera on yours. You had a great sentiment over photography and I could not help myself but to smile at the heartening view of you, capturing what you wanted to and for me, you were the ikon of photography because you always found beauty in almost everything. Every millisecond that passed was a mystical moxie and it was almost ethereal and I would really love to be back in that alluring boondocks, trapped in time with you.

You were always invariably up for almost anything: from sketching on the tissue you pulled out from our favorite fastfood chain, indulging yourself on the amusing videotape for hours, making DIYs on an afternoon rush, and making cold treats amidst the sweet tranquility of midnight. You were always on the go for almost everything, except for the mellow forenoon whispers and cuddles for you really loved deep slumbers. To me, you were like wild beatiful flowers sprouting almost everywhere - you were unreadable and a by nature reticent demoiselle and that's the thing that I adore. You were a silent unstoppable.

Over the scorching summer days and wintry nights, I never took heartbreaks as painful as it would be because basically, I never got to experience one, but not until you told me that one day, we would be lost- I, on the other side of the earth and you, on the other side too. I never wanted it, never wished, but it did happen.

On a sublime morrow, with the year forgotten, I saw you- still with a polariod on hand. Under the clear golden sunlit sky of France, hearts beating loudly on the bottom of the Eiffel tower, we met again after so many years. Your pitch black hair turning to a golden brown after being hit by the rays of the lustrous sun and your brown hazelnut eyes made me want to cry out of joy. You were still wearing your darling smile with the nude silk Gucci dress draping over you. For me, on that exact moment, you were the perfect resemblance of angels: beautiful, strong-willed and calming. Not saying anything, you pulled me in a melting hug- the vanilla and the rose petals from your favorite perfume line intoxicated my nostrils and it was heaven. From Philippines, to the sunsets of Hawaii, to the countryside of England and lastly, in Paris. You were really a traveller while I, just a slob with a flair for literary who seemed to be always lost but with you, I would always be found - 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒚, 𝒅𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚, 𝒘𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆.