Sweet Flicks

Have you ever catched yourself in a reverie while reading a romanitic novel?

I just did. I’ve been reading a lot of books and essays lately. I’ve read novels with intense and heavy messages. They were great but I thought that those type of books might insinuate me the idea of suicide, considering my serious ambivalent mood these past few days. And so I have arrived to my old favorites: modern romance. My favorite author in this genre is Nicholas Sparks. I know he’s cliche. His book covers always have a man and a woman’s face inches far from each other or a vintage background with a box and inside the box is his name and the book’s title. (Yes, I am a fan) anyway…


It was a rainy afternoon when a girl and a boy was getting to know each other. They bandied stories; stories about anything under the sun. It was a series of randomness with peppered grains of seriousness. They sat on a green swing, suspended by the faux-ceiling of the man-labored metal furniture; either their legs or feet lay on the purple-ish white pillow on the seat of the swing, their knees allowing their upper and lower legs to vary in position. They were half a meter away from each other and sometimes their eyes met but most of the time their eyes were dillydallying; staring at the external purple wall of the neighbor’s house. Their other companions laughing inside the walls of the humble blue house; voices and guffaws ricocheting on the walls but neither the girl nor the boy entertained the indirect invitation to join the others inside and cease their present conversation.

It was a sunny saturday afternoon, a girl and a guy sat on two monoblock chairs beside each other, isolated from the other chairs littered on the school’s field. They were playing ‘ketchup’ and their hands proved the girl was winning. They cracked jokes, exchanged memories and experiences, and mentioned unusual funny facts only one of them knew. Out of boredom, the girl slipped her long left foot in the comfy espadrils of the young man lauging beside her. People on the field slowly decreasing in number along with the movement of the right and left hand of the clock to 4:00pm.

It was a cold friday morning and the girl was amused by how modern romantic novels like what she was currently reading wrought her to form imagery that is either a memory or a daydream. Everytime she came to a chapter describing a scene between a couple, she creates a different version in her mind that is inspired by a memory and a desire altogether. She was not reminscing about her sweet encounters but instead she was acknowledging the existence of the same events in her life that of described in sparks’ novels yet varies in meaning.  She opted to write her contemplation if she could allot time for it at home later. She was already whispering to herself the potential content of her conspired blog post while her hair was being strayed by the wind that seemed stronger because she was sitting on a fast moving jeepney. She didnt mind the eyes of the people staring at her while their eyebrows moved unevenly to show disagreement and disdain to the words her lips were silently speaking.

1 comment:

  1. As sweet as the perpetual taste of your lips on a Saturday afternoon. :)