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This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.

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Tuesday, January 19, 2010

entry arrow2:00 PM | Touch, Move, Unseen

I love the invisible inventiveness of winds. They touch things, and move them, and we are the awed spectators to their ghost traces. From my table, for example, I can see the door to this room propped open to still firmness by a slight chair. And the wind—which I know is present because it touches my skin, and makes strands of my hair fly—compels it to meet its given destiny to shut close. It pushes so, and the chair moves. When the wind just as suddenly dies, everything goes back to their static stances, and we are left with the ordinary world and this tragedy: where only the visible and has mass can move and shape everything, and we are left only with the longing for cool, invisible forces. Like love.

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