there is that little girl again, with her lolo. they live a block away from the apartment
the girls in checkered skirts who carry small bags and big books.
the guy who sports a tattoo
the banker who is all crisp and clean cut
the lady from the big store, the woman and the guy working at the capitol
the nurses, interns, students in all-white,
the occasional drunk person
and all those the sleepy little children who are supposed to be in school very early
she wonders how they all get by.
she thinks how she is to go to work again, answer urgent calls and important emails, submit reports and charts, do all sorts of stuff for everyone else, eventually get hands very full, and then after five, take that long trip home, watch news, check the internet, write or read a little, prepare to sleep, pray, wake up early. and go through that whole cycle again
the day after, and the next, she sits on the corner of the jeepney, listening to her favorite album for a year now.
she counts the faces that pass her by, wondering still, how she and all of them do get by.