The sun this morning was blinding that it was difficult to believe how everything went so gloomy so fast. Imagine how things can change within the span of four hours. After reaching my office, everything started to change from white to black.

But I realized that while on my way to the office, the poetry of bleak complemented with the beauty of tragedy gracefully welcomed my day—only that my glasses were too dark for me to appreciate them immediately.

As I stared blankly at my screen, I recalled a small boy played with a dead rat sprawled at the middle of the road—its head crushed and pieces its brain and entrails reddened by blood splattered and colored the concrete road. The rat was no small rat. It was as huge as a cat.

The sight left me humming “there was once a cat who got eaten by a rat…I don’t know why is it so…I don’t think blah…wherever they go…La la la la la la la…”

I love this song but I can’t remember its title nor the artist. Perhaps it is for this fact that it remains to be my top favorite. It’s the element of I-don’t-know. It’s not about lame mystery or something, you know. It’s this bizarre familiarity, perhaps. I haven’t been able to listen to it since I was like 16 years old.

With that unknown song still blaring inside my head, two blocks from my office, I notice a spilled strawberry jam on the footpath. Beside the jam was a receipt.

Beside the receipt was that thought that one inday ng bahay was being beaten to death for smashing the jar of strawberry jam on the pavement.

But who cares? The ants had a feast, anyway.