As far as I'm concerned, weekends are there to cry the good cry, volumes not to be unleased during weekdays when the elusive balance must be maintained, eyes keeping their normal demeanor.

Unfortunately, durga caught me at a bad time. I was starting to be a bitch and, knowing the last instance that should never be repeated, I quickly held my tongue. Or rather, my fingers.

Inhale, exhale.

Words are lapping against my feet, begging for attention. One is the nightmarish marriage of sex and technology. The other, the everlasting apology made in a hush. In the middle, there is me, anxious about things, getting antsy.

Before I forget, my congratulations to Justine Kaye on the first book. Have a goodie bag for you. Can't wait to see your reaction.

When I think of how we are at ease, when our shoulders learn to relax, no need to second-guess, no need to excise words that may offend (okay, maybe sometimes but it's more out of prudence), when we dream, when we go on our days with the knowledge that we can run to each other for solace, I cannot imagine it any other way. I cry just thinking of the time when all these are no longer possible for I have to trace the chosen path. Yet I also cry just thinking that all these were made possible to begin with.