The whole stretch of Maceda St. in Sampaloc is still busy. Horns and noises from engines of vehicles fill the seemingly empty space beyond my spot. The orange light of the lamp post in front of my apartment penetrates the aged glass of the wooden window of this room. I can here the voices from the television in the salas. my brother’s probably watching. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to write here or what this article is all about. I actually just letting time pass. I’m so bored, waiting… waiting for someone to talk to me, waiting for him to break the silence, waiting for the phone to ring and shatter the stillness of this moment.