INSIDE that rectangular box are metals and poles that support and encased stuffs. There are lots and lots of bits and pieces from people, who like me, are searching for things yet known. Yellow, red, blue, and green curtains move and sway as the engine stirs up and changes its chemical energy into mechanical energy, dreams are woven and emotions are exposed at the same time. Raw and naked, which should be savored with utmost gentleness, these visions and aspirations are part of being, not only of one person but of others as well.

Once inside that rectangular box, a pretty lady, medium built with a mole on her left cheek was seated beside me. She offered me a snack, which I accepted. And right then, she began to knit.

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As threads of different colors clung into that knitting needle, I saw her soul. She persevered and tried her luck in applying for a job abroad. She wanted to help her poor parents send her six siblings to school.

A young lady in her 20s, who at her age should go out with friends, date, and have a good time, chose another path. She handed me that colorful centerpiece she knitted. I accepted it. We parted and until now I still feel an admiration for this courageous lady I sat with inside that rectangular box.

The red curtain swayed once again in that potholed road. I was half asleep when the lady beside me at her late 30s suddenly cried. I did not know what to do or what to ask since she is a stranger.

I decided to offer her 5 pieces of facial tissue. She accepted it and she began to tell me her story. She said that she left her children and her husband because she was in love with her "kumpare".

Her husband filed for an annulment, it was then that she realized how she loves her family. She repented for her mistakes but her sobs and tears cannot change anything.

I was dumbfounded with that revelation and began thinking about the story of creation which I learned in grade school. I began calling Eve in my mind, wanting to curse her or tell her how much I abhor her. I even wished God to change my gender. But of course that was just my initial reaction. As she alighted, her story still lingered in my mind. I realized that I should leave whatever happened as is.

It already happened and that I cannot change her story. The world is an oblate spheroid, not round that is why there is a need to accept that life is sometimes crooked.

It was summertime; the air was cool in that mountainous area that nestled good memories for everyone who visits her. My soul was refreshed as we left the place. On our way home, I sat beside a young and good-looking friend. He practically shared stories about his bumpy roads and broken paths.

Maybe, falling in love is really falling into bumpy roads and broken paths. He tried his very best to even out differences in status, belief, and color but ended up in broken paths. He gave the best love in the best way he can yet lose in the end. That is love, bumpy and broken at times.

Inside that rectangular box are woven fabrics with different colors of different hues. I love those tinges, they make living interesting. Inside that rectangular box are people, who like me, are searching for things yet known. I do not know if they were successful in their search but for me my search ended inside that rectangular box where yellow, red, blue, and green, curtains swayed. The naked dreams and aspirations of others became a part of the fabric I am weaving.