Day Dancing.

Tango Evenings.Home from a long day of work and a pleasant dinner. Discovering that my days pack lifetimes in them. This morning, I was at an embassy getting my visa for Qatar. There was story there about OFWs lining up for work and being pulled out of the line because my visa was government-issued. I asked the guard to hand me some shame afterward because he seemed to have done away with mine.

I played peek-a-boo with a baby boy hanging from his mother’s arms. They were both waiting for photos to be printed. I stood up, went into the little studio, smiled, wore a blazer that smelled like everyone else’s dream of going to the US or the Middle East. I blinked at the flash, stood up again and left.

This afternoon, I chitchatted with a lady from the registrar’s office who kindly told me that i couldn’t return to my MA program. I should have felt something, some remorse, maybe? But I was strangely relieved. Happy to be told. Excited perhaps to start anew? To leave nothing behind?

Later in the day, I wore a blazer and closed shoes. Napped briefly in the car on the ten-minute drive to my meeting. Spent two hours listening to people who worked and aged in the BPO industry. It was a riot. They were excited to be where they were.

Afterward, a cab home then a ride to dinner. There’s an Argentinian restaurant in town with food I constantly crave for. Then there is this beautiful black and white floor where tonight people danced.

Next year, I would like to learn to Tango. I want to look the way this elderly lady did on the dance-floor, with eyes closed and feet sure of each step. She was captivating.

That’s how I want to live.




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