My first encounter with M--- G---- was year 1997. She was seated alone in a Benilde classroom crammed with pseudo-posh, Greenhills crap clad arsemunchers. Gold loop earrings (even before J.Lo started wearing them) with an unpretentious and nonchalant but not apathetic air about her. We would exchange highschool stories in the comfort of the Mutien Marie hall, seated on its marble floors, clad in our emerald green Physical Ed. uniforms, till the D.O. comes and motions us to get our ass off there. I would spearhead Operation Y--- where C---, R3 and I would steal her pack of smokes from her backpack--a futile attempt to make her quit her cigarette habit. She knows everything that I hide and she keeps it hidden. She knows me inside out. Loves me unconditionally. Forgives me without question. Seven years of precious friendship. Now, who says I suck at relationships?

One night, she told me, she had dreamt of the terrace of his Seoul apartment---its door shut and distant from where she was standing. Last night she had dreamt of a symbolical infant, a black-skinned child nobody wanted because of its unconventional appearance. She knew this infant could never be hers. Prior to her parting from the dark child, she recalled naming her "Remembrance". Then she awoke panicking at the prospect of a lonely moment. With that, albeit depressed, she welcomed reality.


*It's all odd, I know. But isn't it wonderful the fact she dreams in color?

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