tsinelas

"In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary."
--Aaron Rose

what can you say about a five-year old pair of everyday slippers? that it was black, ordinary, and other than the 'summer walk' embossed on its soles, it was as brandless as no-name-recall. that it was mine and that, just this morning, it gave up on me.

my 5-year old brandless pair of everyday slippers gave up on me today. there, i've written it down. that's something i just have to let out. wear-and-tear finally succeeded at severing the right half at its weakest link.

it was with me -- it was my everyday wear -- during my UP diliman days. it traveled with me to mindanao, accompanied me back to manila, stayed with me in laguna, transferred with me to batangas, and, today, it reached its end of duty.


old meets new
goodbye, tsinelas.

you have served me well. i knew when i first saw you that you were not designed for abuse. nevertheless, i bought you for that purpose and you lived up to that. you've demonstrated a staying power that earned my amazement. you even put my merrell pair of shoes to shame -- that merrell pair which i could no longer use since one year and eight months ago because it hated surviving mud and bowed out of active duty by cracking open in the wrong places.

i'll say it again and for the last time: goodbye, tsinelas.

you now have a successor. it is white, ordinary, and other than the "palm beach" embossed on its soles, it is as brandless as no-name-recall like you are. but it is mine and, beginning today, it is the new everyday pair for my feet and it shall have the burden of living up to your feat.

p.s. erich segal, the guy who wrote the book, love story, died this week. he started that book this way: "What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died? That she was beautiful. And brilliant. That she loved Mozart and Bach. And the Beatles. And me." that, in a way, makes the first paragraph of this write-up familiar.