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Journal of a Lockdown No. 45


Father, mother, and kids were seated. The MRT was not packed, to my surprise. The kids, with colorful shoes, were noisy and asked many questions. It was probably their first time to ride the train. Their mother told them to be quiet. It was as normal as any Filipino family portrait can get. I took the photo months ago on my way home from work, when public transportation was still operational. I wonder how they're doing now.

Because we're in the tail end of April, the heat has gotten more intense, especially in the afternoons. I'm certain there are worse places. At least our place gets the morning sun. In the afternoons, it's considerably cooler, and the breeze enters the living quarters when we open our windows. After lunch, we stay in the balcony to get some reading or work done. In between these rituals, we get short naps, only to awaken at around four for the afternoon coffee (or tea, if our stomachs get too acidic). At five, we head back to the balcony and join the residents in clapping and cheering for frontline workers, a ritual that has been going on for weeks now. As far as I know, it's the way people in our neighborhood realize the day is ending, the brief moments when we can see, apart from the unit owners who exercise religiously, who live inside those walls.


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