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There’s a vacant lot in my neighborhood where an old house used to stand.

I don’t know exactly why it was abandoned and left to ruin. The house had an old-world charm to it.

Two stories…colonial Spanish architecture

Windows with capiz shells.

Toilet separate from the main house.

Big backyard with coconut and umbrella trees.

Decaying wood…huge sections of it missing.

The broken furniture and the stairs could be seen from outside.

Whenever I pass by that lot, it’s difficult to keep my eyes from lingering.

Two apartment buildings stand across it and the lot is just a few steps away from the busy city highway so I can’t help but notice the silence that seem to envelope the place.

It felt like a gate-way to another world.

 

(Perhaps it reminded me of the place our family used to live in when I was eight.)

 

The old house is now gone.

Demolished.

And the vacant lot was silent as ever.

Less gloomy, but I dare not look when it’s already dark.

The grass have already grown wild between the fallen concrete and the continuous rain has turned the backyard into a small shallow pond.

I often find myself stopping by that vacant lot these days. Just this afternoon, I was watching the snails and the tadpoles swim between the fallen leaves in the water.

In the stillness of the twilight, I realize how quiet my life has been recently.

No turbulent thoughts, no stormy emotions.

But at the same time, my desires echoed louder in my heart.

For the first time, they felt comfortable.

I wonder…

if it was because the house of fear inside me has already crumbled.

 

 

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