pillars1I was dumbfounded to see an old issue of my alma mater’s literary journal lying next to my brother’s abandoned things upstairs. After his graduation last April, he packed all his important documents and left all those he deemed unnecessary for his next journey.

What a pleasant surprise the journal still existed after what, 16 years? My other mementos in college did not survive. They were either eaten by termites or destroyed by typhoons. The date said 1994. On its partly-torn cover are these words:  “The Knight MCMXCIV: A Revival (Literary Journal of The Pillars). The front page have my scribbles when I was 16 years old and only a college freshman, then a mind-boggling mathematical equation, and my little sister’s handwritten name. The back page contained what seems to be an acronym but whose meaning I can no longer recall to this day.

I flipped the pages and voila! There it was, the literary piece shining intensely like that burning bush on the ten commandments movie. Then the name: NSM. In my three and a half years in college (I graduated early by full-loading my subjects every semester), I never had the opportunity to get near him, much less get to know the guy or express how I adore his superb articles (read: him). But my friends were familiar with my loud shrieks each time a new literary issue’s released. I was that coward and poor in terms of emotional acuity!

Up until today, I am clueless as to why I have this thing with men who can write well. Don’t ever  wonder why I married a literary guy. Going back to the journal there’s this verse he wrote on page 25:

moon-woman

“full moon
watching her
follies
like raindrops

the moon
watches
raindrops
like her follies

a moon watching
raindrops like
a woman

laughing at
her follies.

And oh, by the way, he still writes. I recently found him on the blogosphere. *wink*wink*