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[av_heading heading=’MY LIFE AS ART ‘ tag=’h3′ style=’blockquote modern-quote’ size=” subheading_active=’subheading_below’ subheading_size=’15’ padding=’10’ color=” custom_font=”]
BY PETER SOLIS NERY
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- SEARCH
Life is short;
Memory, even shorter.
Do you know who invented the wheel?
*
One virgin (character) in white bare midriff dress grabbed Matt’s arms, tried to pull him into the middle of the street.
Matt resisted, miming his apologies.
The virgin in white returned to the formation.
The whole group went into one choreographed routine.
*
Matt squeezed himself out of the crowd.
So much has changed about the festival.
It is wild, shameless, orgiastic, like a euphoric alcoholic.
Matt barely recognized the island anymore.
The island of his memory, bleached beyond recognition.
*
The harbor was now a bustling town with shops, and restaurants along the dock.
Water vessels moored one after another, like railroad cars, advertising fishing cruises, sightseeing tours to nearby islands and reefs.
Not a familiar face in the crowd as he pressed his way from the dock.
*
How to distinguish natives from visitors?
Before it got dark, he had to find his grandmother.
He asked around, but no one seemed to know the woman who started the festival.
He asked a pregnant character, but he was dismissed by exaggerated shrugs of shoulders.
*
The first star shone in the sky.
He asked a shrimp character, was again dismissed with a flaying of claws.
The sky darkened some more.
He asked a bottled water vendor, but was dismissed with a shaking of head.
The sky was totally dark now. Nighttime had fallen.
He asked a blue-green sea monster, got pulled in to join the dance, but still he resisted.
*
Finally, he saw a sari-sari store.
He approached with a hopeful smile.
Filled with candies in jars, hanging stringed sachets of shampoos, toothpastes, packs of corn chips of various flavors and brands, the sari-sari store had stacked cases of empty soft drink bottles in front.
A peanut vendor, a jolly old woman, was busy packing her small cart with bagged peanuts.
*
A young shopkeeper was reading komiks inside the store.
Matt greeted them both good evening.
He asked the storekeeper, If you can please help me, I’m looking for the house of Mercedes Luces. I’ve been asking around and it seems nobody knows anything.
The young lass shook her head, I’m sorry, I don’t know her.
*
She lives on the island, Matt explained. She is quite famous.
I’m sorry. I really don’t know, the girl said honestly.
Then volunteered, But maybe you can ask Lola Metring.
She called loudly to the old woman, Lola Metring! Lola Metring, this man is looking for the house of Mercedes Luces!
But the peanut vendor did not budge. (To be continued)/PN
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