To Whom It May Concern

Hello.

Bad habits die hard. I’ve been trying to stop myself from writing you. But then, it seems even in the middle of performing what I’m supposed to be “officially” doing, I’m still trying to write you! I guess there’s not much we can do about it, no?

But language never communicates in a straightforward manner (a friend said language doesn’t communicate at all while my other self is questioning this whole enterprise of communication).

To put things simply, let’s just say that we often say things we don’t mean and mean things that we don’t say, which goes to say that some things (like this one) are better left unsaid.

All this reminds me of a poem I recently read from the cover of a book I came across somewhere in the library:

            My love
            Is like the grasses
            Hidden in the deep mountain:
            Through its abundance increases,
            There is none that knows.

That would have been the best for all of us. Then again, I was watching the new on TV the other day and realized something: Typhoons, as we all know, have been battering the country these past weeks. They pour too much water on rivers that overflow and flood the towns and cities. Such an abundance does not fail to make its presence felt. ■