User talk:Gil samaco jr

Moments before the terminal of Cagayan de Misamis was demolished, the 

street peddlers had evacuated from the site to Agora, where a larger, better, well equipt facility was constructed to erect a centralized terminal. The pines near the public theater had not cracked the flooring then, but the foundations of the old terminal cracked more than the usual since, a demolition team had battered it for two days and three hours. The old concrete, scattered in the surface of the earth, had covered the irregularities of the road and two days after, the asphalt that evened it, buried as well the memories of the old place, thus, the past was simply torn down in days and hours, that no one ever paid a simple regard, or care, or laid respect to the stories and trivialities of the place that was once the center of human activity in Cagayan de Misamis. The families who owned the eateries in the sidewalk opened their caserole every thirty minutes in disbelief, and the aromas that filled the interior of the utensils remained, contrary, as early as seven in usual days, people would race over for viand and it kept them busy unlike the day they sat and wondered how everything changed. Fifty years and almost seven months, when the old scene of eateries were covered with buildings that fairly earned well with business, the once busy corner near the old terminal had lost its meaning. It was a place frequented by policemen, and during the evening, the transformation became even more dramatic when the lights faded and new colors of the city emerge in the outskirt of unpredictability. It was just a simple corner of course, where the games of men and young women suddenly collide in an idiocy blindfolded by guilt. There were establishments close to that corner, and for reasons, visited by the famous personalities. The aroma, along with the unfolding time and what the people called development, ommited the simple realities of what was the people, and a new form of reality blossomed with the sickness of generation influenced by the adventures of sexual fantasy, precipitated by the aloholic trance that's addicted to mundane pleasure. It was vivid, some unimaginable vices that are too harsh, and the insensitivity brought about by a failing world. No one remembered the terminal, and it's meaning slowly drowned with the flood that shocked the whole city three days after the new year of 2009. Barely a week after, another flood in the eastern part of the city devastated schools, homes, establishments, and the highways swam like crawling flouder in a sand of mud and garbage. /////////////////////////////////////////// The people in Mindanao are not ready. A boy who once earned by shining shoes in the terminal clearly recalled, that it wasn't like it before, and that it was filled even with greater magic; the parades of

Buting measured the distance of the waves that travelled in the lake and saw that it seemed endless from the harbor, he used his hand to cover the blinding light above his eyebrows and from there, he could see a figure at the other end of the lake, like a thin, slim, fire from a scented wick. "It's like a fire in the night." He said. And by the time he spoke those words, the fire moved closer, closer, like it was rowing nearer to his stance and held him for a moment-burning a deep curiosity inside him that stimulated both heart and mind. When the union of his emotion and intellect had him investigate what kind of incident had caused his passion, he tend to forgot what kind of feeling it was, but recalled how to capture a moment and live for a moment. But it was more than passion; it was indeed a fire that's hotter everytime he blew it, out of question, that it captured him although he denied. When the face of the fairy that waved his wand before him alighted from the wooden canoe, he could barely speak a word and he hid his breath that smelled alcohol out of his astonishment.

but although he blushed before her, she needed not to prolong his agony and started to smile that seized him forever.

(when one is in love, he is like captured and imprisoned forever, when one is exiled, he still could miss his life; but being exiled for that love is like facing eternity without turning back, and each time i think of that, i am being pulled by that eternity in a blackhole of uncertainty.)

Seeing the sea angels crossed the sea like a firefox that defied sound, Isidro wasted no time by encouraging Editha to visit his beloved place. There was no wind for the day, that the sea was calm and best for travel, and the long horizon filled with sailing clouds that moved to one direction, was cleared minutes after they boarded the new water vessel often cited in the daily paper-inside the pages of leisure and life. The vessel first turned three sixty like it was surveying the scene the moment its rope unfastened from the port, by the moment it synchronized with the compass and map that also matched with its trajectory, it started to heat its invincible engine, lifting the vessel up into a ride that lasted short. When the doors of the vessel reopened, Editha's eyes were rounded as she saw the sea more emphasized by the time she smelled it, and she tasted it in her mind, as she saw an obviously old road and screaming people. There were peddlers in the port, but the young children who skillfully jumped to the waters and begged for peso were among the interest she coundn't resist to flashed with photos! Isidro grabbed her hand and pulled her with grace to the port of Camiguin. ///////////////////////

The shifting clouds one dark morning travelled swiftly to the mountains, and the cold intensely wrapped the household in a humid that was unusual for an ordinary rainy day. It was morning, but later than two hours the humidity dropped until the sky gave way and rain poured first into the mouth of the crest. An hour passed noon that seemed dawn, the cuppacino colored river had dramatically risen, and it brought the most violent signs of bad luck like dried leaves, twigs, branches, logs, trees, and finally some animals that looked like monsters with their bloating stomach; it was a scene that people never saw for the last twenty years and the public rescue group panicked for some phone calls and priority requests made by anxious officials and the media. A few number of volunteers managed to report immediately, but the angry river-as manifested by its character, seemed insensitive to the pleas of people that were calling, reaching, pleading for help, but it was not time for the river to listen. No time for the river to act gingerly.