A few evenings ago, a friendship made stale by time, personal differences, and perhaps unexpressed mutual hatred wanted itself rekindled.

When one ages, he loses the patience to put up with people whose arrogance, loquacity, and sheer presence are vexing. He tolerates nonsense less and is more exacting with how he wants to spend his precious time. People he met in the past, and present, are sifted through a fine mesh of carefully chosen criteria. Whereas some consciously widen their circles like elegant patterns of overlapping Venn diagrams whose center are themselves, some maintain beautiful tiny dots, like lonely stars unfortunately un-included in those arbitrary constellations.

So I left the text message unanswered, choosing not to say anything, and went on leafing the pages of a book that had been waiting for me to be held.


To have been away from here for a long time has become too common an occurrence. Work has preoccupied most of my time. It has been a slow month, my weekdays determined by routine which, if I had been younger, would have made me lose my sanity. But these days, routine has kept me still. Not grounded. But more like a fish rendered stationary, pushing forward against a current of equal force. Canceling. Zero net velocity.

Not that I am unhappy about how things are going.

I eat, work, workout, read. I’m quite unsure if these are all there is to life.