Just as day is inextricably linked with night and yet they refuse to be together, so would a depiction of me shamelessly falter if it chooses to exclude an allusion to the dichotomy of my intoxicated and sober states. My self-conception would not stand if it fails to picture the two persons enmeshed and compacted within what can physically be perceived of me.

As an innately curious and cynical person, I am drawn to the profound mysticism of the cosmos, the supernatural, and the ethereal. I breathe enigma – which is why it enthralls me to discover that the key to my parallel universe is the presence of spirits; yes, my spirit soars when it is unrestrained by convention and unguarded by suppressions.

I write this while my head swirls at the onslaught of a nasty hangover after grappling with my sanity over two long necks of Tanduay 65 years.

Sometimes, I wonder why I am drawn to the prospect of escapism; but most times, I know that just as night religiously accedes to the break of day, so must my spirit be constantly released from the monotonous stupor of an obscure life.
Cheers.