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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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Thursday, April 28, 2022

entry arrow1:14 AM | Fallen Fruit

The way the mangoes fall down on the galvanised iron roof of the shed next door, you'd think there are unholy skirmishes at play. A fight perhaps, or a neighbour throwing stones, or hail falling in hail-free country. I conjecture only violence from the sounds I hear. When it rains, as it does now, the thud each impact makes is thunder; when the wind blows, a thunderstorm — it disturbs what repose I fashion of the comforts of my bedroom. (How many fruits does that tree hold?) I tell myself, it’s just fruit. It’s just mango flesh slamming against metal sheets. There is no comfort in this fact, however: in my mind, I see that flesh torn and bruised, helpless against wind or rain, the sound of their fall their last call that catches my attention before they surrender to the cruel ground below.

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[0] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich




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