The color of the sky, I remember the color of the marker, the chalk that the tailor used whenever me and Papa went to Jogars to have new pants made for u. Before this we would buy abel to pasadya. What happend to those pants I used to wear. When I left the church, I didnt bring them with me. One day I just saw Tito Joel wearing them and felt a mix of nostalgia and annoyance that my mom just gave them to someone else without my permission. But the annoyance was tamed when I pictured her teary-eyed while looking at my clothes which she will wrap inside a supot to give my poor uncle.
As time goes by, I evolve. And I myself am surprised that my evolution is pointing me towards being a creator of beautiful poetry that just happens to be philosophically inclined. Analysis is important but only to ground me to truth and honesty. But since what I need most to get through life lies in subjectivity, in beauty, I stay here the most. To move people to appreciate their one wonderful life.
The species of my forest garden have changed to reflect this.