During my stay in Pisay, there had been times that I admittedly felt severely depressed with my performance and situation there to the point of sometimes blanking out in front of other people. At those times, I took a brief moment of respite in an rarely-traversed spot that I called my "sanctuary" from the worries of the world. It didn't take much to get there - it was the dirt and gravel path connecting the main driveway and the oval track - and it certainly wasn't much. The place itself was merely a concrete slab under a leafy canopy of a large, gnarled mango (?) tree right beside the oval track fronting Agham Road. The spot certainly didn't have the furnishings of a five-star hotel, but to me at that volatile time in my life, that place was as good as any place for me to be at any time. Sitting on that block-cum-bench, I could hear the whispers of the breeze as it made the leaves rustle. It was a breeze that seemed to come form everywhere amd at the same time nowhere, drawing the despair in my mind out and scattering it to the four corners of the world. The crisp chirps of crickets and birds alike echoed around that little square, hinting of the coming dusk. The light of the sun diffused through the leaves of that grand canopy, transforming from a searing, blinding light into a comforting, majestic glow that seemed to emanate from the canopy itself. As the stream of illumination trickled through the treetop, ethereal shadows danced on the ground like an entourage of dancers performing a gala presentation for a weary man. There, time stood still in a way that only lovers can describe with succinct detail. There, hope sprung anew like seeds sprouting after a storm. There, I could think about what my existence meant - for myself and for all humanity.
And then a car passes, the rumble of its engine breaking the tranquility. And the moment passes, with yet another memory ingrained in my memory. And time once again passes, like it has for all of eternity. And that tree - that place - and I - will come to pass too, as all are fated to. But the hope which that space etched onto my soul will never pass - no, will never fade, nor weaken - so as long as the memory and essence of that little piece of my universe remains.