I feel like a laboratory cylinder. It seems like there’s an aqueous substance of failure sleeping inside my abdomen. This feeling is as serious as Valium; my subtle mood was taken. Pragmatically, I feel like an idiotic Emerson. As far as I can remember, this hyper doldrums was ignited by a seminar.

All you have to do is pay the registration fee (500 pesos), and voila! You are now part of their seminar – Summoning the Muse of Pablito. The title was so great, that I’ve decided to buy two tickets. Also, I invited some of my “poetic” friends, but unfortunately, curiosity did not kill their wallets. So I went all alone.

Being so impatient, I did not notice their poster. Still, I went on.

I love waves and starfishes, but this is not appropriate. The place has defiled my mood and my desire for erudition. This place is too noisy for a seminar. An ocean may be a sweet and profound dweller in poetry, but not this one. I see merry families, drinking fellows, whining infants, kissing lovers and kissing crabs. The insolubility is at its best.

“Are you alright mister? “

His voice was like a barking -gecko. His skin was brown, while his lips were red. Some strands of his hair were colonized by the silver flakes of the sea. I bet he’s an Asian kid. And I think I could calculate his age by just staring at those pink-shorts. There’s an almond-mellow -tension in his eyes; somehow, I was relieved by his presence.

“Well, I feel funny kid” I said it like a concerned old man. He laughed and he dropped his body (in prone position). I was wandering why he did that. There was no sense of doing it! Trying to be a bard, I speculate- it must have been the sand. Sometimes, this world offers invitations that your consciousness could not respond, but illusively, your body follows.

The site was like a painting: pink-shorts, brown skin, and gray sands. It was a calm view. It started moving as he did some push-ups. Now I am laughing. “Why are you laughing sir?” like he was whispering to the sands. I paused for a while, [because honestly] it was a hard question. I do not know the reason behind my laughing. I was perplexed, whether it’s because of the painting, the push-ups or maybe because the sea has no poets.

He invited me to embrace the sand. And without a mature rationale, I allowed his proposition. There was silence, nothing but just the wafting wind and those drunken waves. I was caught between simplicity and peculiarity. I have no idea what to write. There was no muse. All thoughts seems to be so scientific but uncanny.

And for twenty minutes, the sands didn’t let his shorts go.