Sunday - October 21, 2007

Rest in peace. 

Cleaning my desk is futile. I tried it last week. It stayed clean exactly one day before the objects of my various affections and affectations began to accumulate again. 

I was staring at the mess on my desk when I heard about the bomb. At first, the report said it was likely an LPG tank explosion at Luk Yuen, a theory disproved not soon after by the bomb squad's report of the presence of C4 in the debris. 

Mess: a group of people eating together, usually soldiers. An unpleasant or difficult situation. A state of embarrassing confusion. A person with a confused or disorganized moral or psychological outlook. 

We worked throughout that awful day. Our building is across from Makati Med. It seemed as if there were sirens shrieking their way through the traffic every thirty minutes.

And what do we do, if those responsible are ever found? On the news, a woman cold in grief and anger said she hoped karma would return the favor, and even worse, to the bombers. Justice never feels like it's enough. But it is all we have, if we ever get it.

I don't even want to look at my desk.