In Preparation For The Next Tour

If I could do just one near perfect thing I'd be happy,
They'd write it on my grave, or when they scattered my ashes.
On second thought, I'd rather hang about and
Be there with my best friend
If she wants me.

- Belle and Sebastian

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I was roasting a large fish over a glowing spit that played tinny christmas jingles whenever I turned the handle. We were by the dock, near a clear, crystalline river, in which bass (fish) played miniature violins and water beat on its stones like drums. After I'd finished cooking, I sat on the edge of the dock. I began baiting fish hooks with worms (they didn't complain, it was as if they'd wanted to be used as bait all along), and by the time I was done, the fish I'd roasted had come to life again. It boomed: And what exactly were you planning to do to me? I jumped into the river, and swam away.

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Tomorrow is our last day in Tanauan. After this, I think I will miss the school: how it smelled of dog shit in the morning; how engrossed the kids were while they were listening to our story-telling sessions (I'm reminded of myself at their age, when I imagined I could sit for hours at my reading teacher's feet, just listening to her talk, spit gleaming faintly on the corners of my mouth); the beautiful teacher (Jenny? Jean? Jehan?) who leaned a little to close to me for comfort, how she kept touching me with her cold, clammy hands; Principal Managuit and her warmth, and kindness.

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I am where I should be.