PHASE THIRTEEN

THE INSIGHTS OF A WANDERER

"Permit, Ms. Costiñiano?"

I nodded and gave the registrar the filled-out form. Naghintay ako ng ilang minuto bago kuhanin ang permit na pinapayagan akong umalis.

"Mag-iingat ka sa labas, hija. Nakapasok na ang AEASR dito at paniguradong mas marami sila sa labas."

Itinagilid ko ang ulo. "AEASR?"

Tumango siya at may pinirmahan sa papel. "Organization para kay RAN. Nagkalat sila rito ngayon dahil may nagpapasok daw."

"Sino raw po ang nagpapasok?"

She shrugged. I used it as a sign to end the conversation.

Hawak-hawak ang permit ay umalis ako mula sa counter. Umabante ang pila ng mga estudyanteng kukuha rin ng permit para lumabas.

Royal Colleges for the Arts was a boarding school that had lighter rules in comparison to other boarding schools. Though it required permits to go out and had to return on or before the declared date. 

In casual events, the permit allowed for at least a day before returning. But for important events, three days were allotted before the student should return. In terms of extension, the student had to inform the school beforehand.

There were no curfews in consideration of the students who were staying up at night to finish their projects. Workshop rooms were open daily to accommodate students. The responsibilities, however, revolved around taking care of the studio's materials and cleaning the mess after working.

The dorms were split into two buildings—one for the female students and one for the male students. There were also lobbies on the ground floor of each building to accommodate guests and promote camaraderie, as they had called it.

The dining hall had a separate building which tables were categorized under different programs. Each student had respective seats and had to attend the 8 a.m. breakfast because it was the

There were also a lot of events held by the school—either by the students or by the administration. Art fairs from third parties were also allowed but had to secure a permit from the school.

Overall, it was a nice college to study in. At most, the students were "free" to decide for themselves.

But does it also apply to students who wanted to accept flyers from an organization affiliate?

From the looks of her, she didn't look like someone from the university—rather, someone who wanted to bring attention to a controversial topic.

The air that they carried spoke about it.

I want power.

Daraanan ko lang sana siya ngunit hinarangan niya ako sa pamamagitan ng pag-abot ng flyer. Malawak ang ngiti niya sa 'kin, binabalewala ang pagpigil sa 'kin mula sa paglalakad.

Tumikhim ako.

"Hi, Miss! I'm Angel from the Assembly Empowering Art for Social Reform or AEASR. Pumayag po ang school na pumasok kami, so here we are! Namimigay po kami ng flyer as an invitation for you to join and be knowledgeable about the Missions and Visions of the Assembly. Under this Assembly, we aim to empower art—"

Umiling ako at tinalikuran siya. "I'm not interested."

"Pero, Miss!"

Nagbuntonghininga ako at nagpatuloy sa paglalakad.

The sun had already set, and I wanted to leave this place immediately. The problem was the date that I declared in the permit. Bukas pa ako pwedeng maka-alis dahil pwede lang 'yon i-file isang araw bago umalis. Kaya kailangan ko munang magtiis bago lumabas.

Sa pag-iikot-ikot, ilang beses ko nang nilalayuan ang mga taong nag-aabot ng flyer. If this was what the registrar talked about earlier, rather than involving myself in misleading events, I had to stay away from it.

I was not interested with things as powerful as that because I had always treated it as a misleading event. Hindi 'yan ang pinunta ko rito kaya bakit ko pag-aaksayahan ng oras ko?

Where was I supposed to head?

I don't know, either. Ang alam ko lang—gusto kong maglakad at maglibot-libot.

Ilang beses ko na 'yong ginagawa—isang paraan upang maramdaman kung ano ang nararamdaman ng mga taong nandito. Umaasa na sa paggaya ng mga ginagawa nila, mahahanap ko rin ang direksyon ng patutunguhan ko. At kung hindi, paniniwalain ang sarili na hindi ito ang tamang lugar para maghanap no'n.

Kaya uusad ulit at pansamantalang titigil upang maghanap.

Kung wala pa rin, uulitin ang proseso hanggang sa maubusan ng lugar na titigilan. At habang hindi pa umuusbong ang mga bagong patutunguhan, titigil muna sa isang pwesto habang sinusubukan na huwag maubusan ng kasiyahan.

Paikot-ikot hanggang sa mahilo. Paikot-ikot hanggang sa makuntento.

Wala namang mali ro'n dahil iyon na ang naging pag-iisip ko. Kung babaguhin, mahihirapan ako at lalong maliligaw bago makapunta sa patutunguhan. Mas hahaba ang proseso, mas maraming enerhiya ang uubusin.

At mas maraming sarili ang uubusin.

That's why I had always preferred being in the vast confines of nothingness—of journeying and patience, of wondering and never staying. Constantly searching for guidance and nitpicking ideas that would be helpful in my journey. Pledging myself in things that would be too hard for me to accomplish so I would force myself to overcome them.

A trial-and-error phase but the difference was—what was the result that I was searching for?

Adventurers usually find it at the end of the journey and are delighted because they had found what they had been searching for. But for someone who was wandering without any goals, what would I feel when I had reached the end? Would I feel delighted, or would I feel constantly lost?

Lael, what are you even doing here?

Napunta ang tingin ko sa isang pwesto nang makita ang pamilyar na bulto ni Lavien.

The man was enraged while talking to her while Lavien was confused. She was trying her best to understand what he was talking about while he shook his head in disagreement.

His side profile and built looked familiar. I think he was the one who had Lavien's ring.

"'Wag kang chismosa."

Napabuntonghininga ako nang marinig ang boses ni Michelangelo.

Bagot ko siyang tiningnan. Tinaasan niya ako ng kilay at inilingan.

"Ang layo nila sa 'kin. Paano ako maka-chi-chismis?" tanong ko, pagod na.

He sneered at me, annoyed because of what I said.

Was he annoyed that I made a point? Ang sensitive naman niya.

"'Wag mo silang kausapin tungkol d'yan. Buhay nila 'yan," dagdag niya habang nakatanaw kina Lavien. "Siya 'yung tinataguan mo noong isang araw, 'no?"

Naningkit ang mata ko sa kan'ya. "Tinataguan?"

"Sa The Cushion. Nakita kitang tinakbuhan mo siya."

I acted clueless. It's not his business to mind.

"Hindi ko alam ang sinasabi mo."

"Mag-maang-maangan ka pa." He tsk-ed. "Kumuha ka ba ng flyer?"

"Ang daming flyers, Michelangelo," balewala kong sabi, pagod na pagod nang makipag-usap sa kan'ya.

"'Yung binibigay ng babae."

"Maraming babae rito."

Tinaliman niya ako ng tingin.

"May bitbit ba 'ko?" Binanat ko ang kamay upang ipakita sa kan'ya na wala akong hawak.

Sininghalan niya 'ko. "'Wag kang mamilosopo."

What? He's the only one who could sneer at me?

I'm seriously tired of all his antics. Gusto ko lang naman manahimik sa ginagawa ko.

"I didn't get anything from her," sagot ko para matapos na ang usapan.

"Good," he said. "You should not involve yourself with complicated issues."

Umismid ako at nakahalukipkip na hinarap siya. "Kumuha lang ako ng flyer, anong komplikado ro'n? It's for marketing, Michelangelo. She was marketing some random organization."

He snickered. "Lang?"

What is wrong with him? Sinusungitan ba niya 'ko ngayon kasi ako ang nagsungit sa kan'ya kahapon?

Napaawang ang bibig ko. "Anong gusto mong sabihin ko? Na interesado ako sa—"

"Hindi 'yan random, Lael," giit niya.

"And so? Should I be interested with it? Ano ngayon kung hindi siya random?"

He clenched his jaw. "Wala ka talagang pake sa iba, 'no?"

I shrugged. "Is that related to sculpting?"

Mukha siyang nainsulto dala ng sinabi ko.

"Hindi."

"Hindi pala, e. Kaya bakit ako magkakapake d'yan?"

Lalo siyang nairita dala ng sinabi ko.

Of course, a directed man like him couldn't understand a directionless like me.

Hindi niya naiintindihan ang nararamdaman ko tuwing naliligaw. Hindi niya naiintindihan ang desperasyon ko para lang hindi maalis mula sa kinalalagyan. At lalong-lalo niyang hindi naiintindihan ang kagustuhan kong maglakbay kahit gustong-gusto ko nang manatili.

Kaya hindi ako magsasayang ng oras para ipaliwanag ang sarili ko sa taong kagaya niya.

Dahil hindi kami magkapareho.

Mas mabuti ang bagay na 'yon.

"Lael, painting is related to sculpting."

"In what way?" panghahamon ko. "You don't paint sculptures—"

"Pinipinturahan 'yon at alam mo sa sarili 'yon; nakita ng dalawang mata mo 'yon!"

Humugot ako ng malalim na hininga dahil nahuli.

He was right.

I knew it—he explained the Augustus of Prima Porta.

But did I unconsciously forget it? Or was it unintentional?

Ayoko nang makipag-usap sa kan'ya.

"What we're talking about is nonsense," I said in a dismissive tone. "Unless you're going to teach me about sculpting—which was impossible for you to do, granted that you're adamant to keep out someone like me from your territory. Kaya gumawa nalang ako ng sarili kong paraan."

"Kaya mo 'ko sinusundan," saad niya, ang tono ay bahagyang bumait.

Sinusundan...

He was correct—I was following whatever he was doing because it was the best way to learn as a newbie.

Dahil nangangapa pa ako.

But I was not one of his blind followers—I was different from his blind worshippers who didn't dare question whatever's going on in the direction they chose. Rather, I was the rebellious follower—the contradictor which could be considered as a rival.

"Sinusundan kita kasi gusto kong matuto, pero hindi kita sinasamba."

He gritted his teeth. "Wala akong sinabi na sambahin mo 'ko."

"Yes, you didn't, but your followers..." Hindi ko na itinuloy pa. Binitin ko na lang sa ere—pinahihimlay ro'n bago unti-unting lumabo hanggang mawala sa paningin.

"They are not my followers."

"Then—your fans?" nangungutya kong tanong. "Michelangelo, I follow those who could teach me—guide me. So, what can I possibly learn from revolutions? As if they'll teach me how to properly mold a statue."

Michelangelo stood stall on his spot, a dark look on his face. His jaw was clenched, and his hands were formed into a fist.

"Gusto mo talagang matuto?" There was a glint in his eyes when he asked that.

It was tempting, but the last time a woman was tempted, everything went into disarray.

"Yes, that's why I'll—"

"Pero bakit hindi ka nagseseryoso?"

"What?" I seethed.

Ano ba ang problema nito?

He clenched his jaw. "If I was mentoring you, ang sasabihin ko lang: hindi ka pa handang maglilok ng marmol."

Then he stormed off.

I was dumbfounded.

That Michelangelo de Angelis.

Ano ba talaga ang problema niya sa 'kin?

✦

The next day, I left the College's premises to attend a sculpture exhibit. It was my attempt to engage myself in a place where the direction was diffused.

The exhibition had an air that was not cemented and purely revolved about "shallowly" immersing the viewers. It had a distinct character—one that could be treated as constantly moving, thus, the sentiment was unable to develop due to the lack of permanence.

The Raison, on the other hand, had a definite feeling of direction—passion—meant for people who wanted to be a part of the artwork's environment. Its definite air, rooted in its permanence in the College's ground, brought a different feeling in viewing art. It gave an illusion that an outsider belongs there, and that the place would constantly welcome those who were wandering.

The sculptures before me ranged from wooden sculptures, bronze sculptures, and marble sculptures. It had a recurring theme of life in simplicity—poses that revolved around the nakedness of the human in their daily life.

A few were engaged with the sculptures, while the others were passersby. Hindi ko alam kung saan ko ilalagay ang sarili sa dalawang 'yon kaya sa gitna na lang ako nakuntento.

It was the safest place—my comfort zone.

I continued to walk around and tried to separate myself from the air that the College had. Ibang-iba ang pakiramdam no'n habang nag-iikot ako rito, hindi ko alam kung dahil ba sa kakulangan ko ng interes o talagang iba ang lugar na 'to.

"Ang gala mo talaga, 'no?"

Nagbingi-bingihan ako at hindi pinansin si Michelangelo.

I think he was the one who's following me.

Bahagya kong binilisan ang lakad upang maiwala si Michelangelo ngunit gano'n din siya kabilis. Pumirmi na lang ako sa isang pwesto at sinimangutan siya.

"Hindi ko alam na nandito ka kaya 'wag mong sabihin na sinusundan kita," direkta ko.

Humalakhak siya at pumamewang. "Kasama ko sina Tres."

Naguguluhan ko siyang tiningnan.

Bakit niya ako tinatawanan ngayon? Bwisit na bwisit siya sa 'kin kanina.

Binalewala ko siya at naglakad na lang ulit.

I am so tired of him. Gusto kong mapag-isa pero ayaw niya akong hayaan do'n!

Naiirita ko siyang tiningnan nang makitang nakasunod pa rin sa 'kin.

Is he my tail or something? Pagod na pagod na akong makipagtalo at makisama sa kan'ya!

"Hindi ka ba napapagod na kulitin ako?" I snapped.

His eyes were filled with humor. "Ako? Nangungulit sa 'yo? Lael, I think you're misinterpreting me."

"Misinterpreting you?" hindi ko makapaniwalang sabi. "Then, how should I interpret with you pestering me around? Michelangelo, I want to focus!"

He only stared as I complained in front of him.

"You don't belong here," giit niya, ang mata ay nangungusap.

Alam ko.

Hinawakan niya ang pulsuhan ko kaya nangunguwestiyon ko siyang tiningnan.

"Then where do I belong? Nowhere?" I burst out; the frustration laced my chest.

Tahimik niya akong tiningnan at hinila paalis sa exhibition.

Gusto kong magreklamo pero pagod na akong makipagtalo. Masyado na rin akong ligaw kaya sumabay na lang ako sa ibinigay niyang direksyon.

He murmured something inaudible, but I didn't bother myself to question what it was about.

Nanatili na lang akong tahimik—ipinahihiwatig na hindi ako interesado sa sinabi niya. Ngunit ang totoo, interesado ako, sobra.

Tahimik akong sumunod hanggang sa makarating sa isa pang exhibition, ilang minuto ang layo mula sa pinanggalingan.

"How about your friends?" pag-iiba ko ng usapan, mahapdi ang dibdib. "Hindi ka man lang nagpaalam na iniwan mo sila ro'n."

"Malaki na sila," saad niya, abala habang nagbabayad sa bagong exhibition.

From the poster that was posted outside, it was a Japanese-inspired immersive installation that would showcase Japan in its cherry blossom season.

After he paid for the entrance fee, he dragged me inside and stopped when a blanket of fog reached our feet.

Napunta ang tingin ko ro'n, napakurap-kurap dala ng iba't ibang kulay na naka-project sa paligid. Bahagya kong tiniklop ang tuhod upang salatin ang kulay ngunit dumaan lang 'yon sa pagitan ng kamay ko.

I couldn't touch the colors.

Umayos ako ng tayo at sinulyapan si Michelangelo na nakatingin sa 'kin. May multo ng ngiti sa labi niya bago magsimulang maglakad.

"Para kang bata," komento niya.

"It's the first time that I had been here," saad ko, iniikot ang tingin sa makulay na paligid.

The area was illuminated with immersive projections of cherry blossoms and stalls that could be seen in a fair. The walls had different-colored projections which a person could stand in front and be projected with its light. May ilan ding physical stall na pinalilibutan ng ilaw at may display na cotton candy.

It was all so colorful, and I was happy to see those colors.

It reminded me of the time that I spent painting—it was marvelous but draining. Exciting, but my fear of losing excitement was always there.

"Bakit mo ko dinala rito?" tanong ko habang ang mata ay nakatuon sa naglalaglagang petals. I wanted to touch those, but they were all virtual.

"You like it here."

"No, I don't," mabilis kong sagot, ang takot na mawalan ng interes ay bumalik na naman.

Nilingon niya ako. "Look in my eyes and say that you hate it here."

Tinagpo ko ang tingin niya. Sumalubong sa 'kin ang mukha niyang hinahaplos ng iba't ibang kulay sa paligid.

Do I hate it here?

Sa kawalan ng sasabihin ay nag-iwas ako ng tingin.

"See?" He chuckled.

Nagbaba ako ng tingin sa paanang may usok pa rin. "I didn't answer anything."

"Your lack of answer is still an answer."

"Hindi," giit ko.

"Sige, paniwalain mo ang sarili mo r'yan."

Paniwalain...

I continued walking to see the entirety of the exhibit. It felt different from the artworks that I had seen.

The colors were all bright and eye-catching—it was different from the plain colors of the statue that I had been seeing.

I tugged my hands but felt the warmth of a rope. Napunta ang tingin ko ro'n at napansing nakahawak pa rin do'n si Michelangelo.

"You can let go of me now," saad ko, ang mata ay nakatuon sa kamay niya.

He looked at his hand on my wrist and shrugged. "Mawawala ka."

"I'm not a kid."

"But when you looked at the lights, you looked like a kid."

Nanantiya lang ako ng tingin bago nag-iwas.

Like the first time he held my wrist, his grip felt light.

Hindi ako nabibigatan—ang pakiramdam ko lang ay may nakapirmi sa kamay ko.

Ang ayaw ko lang sa pakiramdam ay ang pag-init no'n—senyales na masyado nang nagtatagal ang kamay kaysa sa nakasanayan.

Hinayaan ko na lang siya dahil alam kong hindi siya magpatitinag.

"You're better off in painting," he commented after a few moments of silence.

"No." I grew tired of it.

Naramdaman ko ang pananatili ng tingin niya sa 'kin.

"You like colors, Lael."

His tone was soft and affectionate—did I hear it correctly? Or was it a product of my illusion—my desperate desire to seek entrance in a strict abode?

"Colors are just... colors." Nagbaba ako ng tingin mula sa installation. "The excitement will appear the first time you see those colors, but it won't outlast you because you'd get tired of it. Unlike one-tone colors, they're much—"

Pinigilan ko ang sarili mula sa pagsasalita.

Kabado ko siyang nilingon. Sumalubong sa 'kin ang nakataas niyang kilay, indikasyon na hinihintay niya ang sasabihin ko.

"Anong ayaw mo sa isang kulay lang?"

I feared his tone—it sounded welcoming, which was very different from his previous actions. And it caged me because it wanted me to believe that I was doing it correctly, and soon enough, he'd let me enter.

But no, Lael. He's misleading you.

"Hindi sila nakasasawang tingnan," I resigned. "You won't expect anything because it's the only color to appreciate."

Because it was the truth.

One-toned arts were a blank canvas—intimidating like starting. Overwhelming and overbearing. Dominating and prying. They were all things powerful, and frightful ones would succumb to its dominating presence.

But the multi-toned arts—a work-in-progress canvas—were the exact opposite. They were welcoming like installations. Open for diversity and colorful interpretations where one wouldn't be afraid that they were interpreting a slate wrongly.

They were more alive—probably not warm, but the life was there.

A different type of living.

And it was all about colors.

I felt him nudging me. "Are you a pilgrim?"

"A pilgrim?" Sinulyapan ko siya. Tumango siya. "A pilgrim is a traveler who is on a journey to a holy place. I am a traveler, but wherever I go isn't holy, Michelangelo. That's why I consider myself as a wanderer."

Binanat niya ang kamay para doon lumapat ang ilaw na nasa pader. "Some people see their journey as holy."

Ginaya ko ang ginawa niya at hinayaan ang pagsayaw ng ilaw sa palad ko.

"I am not some people," I started. "There are different types of people—most are living with their passion, a few aren't, but what do we really know?"

Tumango-tango siya.

"And the world is not only for the passionate ones, Michelangelo. May iba pang nakatira dito."

"Kagaya mo."

I felt bitter.

Nahihirapan akong napalunok. "Oo... kagaya ko."

But what did he mean by that? Did we have the same interpretation?

Ipinirmi ko na lang ang tingin sa mga taong naglilibot sa paligid.

They all looked excited because they appreciated the things that they had been seeing, but how many of them were first-timers? How big was the chance that they were here a few times now?

The exhibition ran for three days, and this was the second day. It had an air similar to The Raison because it was enveloping.

Was that the key to the feeling that a place should have—the engagement of its environment? Or were the colors the one who was taking part in it?

What made this place different from the sculpture exhibition? Was I not really meant for sculpting?

Hindi ko maintindihan.

"Michelangelo," I called. "Did I hate messing up colors that's why I chose sculpting?"

My heart was beating wildly in my chest—it deafened me, and it was the deafness that I got used to hearing, so, why would I not listen to it?

"I..." 

The word that hung in the air was deafening, and I wanted to do everything just so I could get rid of it. But like how I was a subjective deaf, the sounds were subjective, too. That's why I had no choice but to bear with it.

And it had always been that way. 

He glanced at me, a forlorn look on his face. "I'm sorry but someone like me couldn't answer your question, Lael."

His tone was low, his voice raspy as if he was in pain.

Or maybe the pain that I heard was a manifestation of my desire to feel pain—to be affected with my current state of journeying and never staying.

Perhaps, I just wanted to hear something rather than his hostility, I was unsure.

All I know is that—I don't know it, too.