I waited for this night to come, for me to just be doing nothing, to just listen to the variegated and mysterious humming in my room poorly insulated from the noise of the immortal EDSA below, to enjoy the hushed instrumentals emanating from my aging computer, to look for that singular north star undimmed by the lighted billboards that obstruct my vision of the night sky, and not to be frustrated when I don’t find it.
My 6th grade teacher, I remember, told us to look for that constellation that resembles a dipper (Ursa Minor); the star at its tip is called Polaris. This star according to her points to that fixed north and may function like a compass when one orients himself to it. Tonight I tried hard to locate this north star, but it was as elusive as finding a moment of quiet in this city.
I lingered a bit in front of my windows, imagining how the night sky in my province might look like on a night like tonight. For sure, it’s beautiful, rivaled only by flickering subdued lights of fireflies after a heavy rain.