rainy days bring strangers closer. there is a sense of intimacy--being huddled under limited shelter, forced to stand close, close, closer together.

"hi, excuse me, are you going to nus too? we could share a cab."
"oh, yes, yes. let's."
"where're you going?"
"as7."
"oh."
"where're you going?"
"central library."
"oh, that's ok. i can drop there too."

and then, someone else chips in.

"as7. arts?"
"oh, yeah."
"(nostalgic chuckle) wow. familiar place."
"are you going there too?"
"nah.. (shakes head) i've graduated. now i'm in the alumni."
"ohh.."

small world, isn't it.


and there was also the authorized-personnel-only walk through the ex-law faculty. with the thunder roaring, the rain pouring, the lightning electrifying, the walk felt completely out of this world. it felt like we were deep in the earth, cradled in warmth, uniform figures with uniform expressions staring at us, pausing in the middle of their work. twists and turns in an underground mine--a labyrinth with a small door at the end, literally with the light shining bright. it was absolutely surreal. i felt utterly privileged, buoyed by the childish sense of adventure.


and how can i forget the free plate of rice the quiet chef gave, shushing me with a discreet nod and a shy smile?


what about the guy who opened the door for me, after catching my eye, standing at the visiting-hours-only door, looking through the glass that barred me from offering comfort?


muted moments. but pregnant with a deep, universal comfort that soothes. that reminds us that beyond the rat race, beyond life's disappointments and mundane drudgery, one only need to reach out to have someone respond in a look, a touch, a gesture, a smile.

and for this, i give thanks.