I have written my close reading of Joel Toledo's Makahiya, hoping at least I had given it justice. I was hunting symbols around the text and thought that the art of reading symbolically is, in itself, creative.
My eyes sore and teary. My consolation is that all these unfinished assignments, fragmentary thoughts and effusion still has worth (so much that I am writing about it) and is completing another purpose in my journal (alright! blog then). But more than the grade this journal/blog promised, I aim to write from top to bottom of the page until not one page is left blank. Not because I have so much to say, but if there is something I can be good at, then I want to be good in writing. Maybe, if I learn the craft and write on a thousand, million, billion pages, then maybe I can be good at it.
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