I was looking through my old paintings and realized, what the hell. I've entirely ceased painting since last year. I gave my better works to Debbie and threw away the rest (the less interesting pieces belong to the trash bin, and you'll never get to see them, no). I've been writing though, often spontaneous, artless thoughts, and managed to drown myself in a reservoir of great first lines, poetic nonsense, and interesting material for future dismemberment and rebuilding.

This year started with nothing different.

Last Christmas, I bought myself a light, aluminum easel. It had stood beside my bed, naked and frail, awaiting my passion to be mounted on it and make it useful.

Now is that time.

Despite the daily motions of a consultant's day job, the endless ranting of the traffic across Metro Manila, the chugging locomotives of society, the noise just stopped affecting me one day. I managed to get a canvas on that easel, primed it gray, and began...

Somehow, I found peace. The new year kicked off late for me, but it kicked off with an inspiration.

The least I could say is, damn. Just in time.