Desires what of that. Those are for
ordinary mortals. They eat they fornicate they use themselves up and then they
die. I’m no ordinary monster. No ordinary
glutton, no ordinary fornicator. I don’t believe in death. That’s for my foes
and friends to wish for me, for my own sake. I reject that.
What is your psychosis? Moira asks. Each
ought to have one or one will not survive. Hers was supposed to be catatonia.
That’s what kept her in the odd jobs that she seasonally took on in the US of A.
Yes, you will never survive here, you
will never, she tells me, after taking my foot size for a pair of sneakers
she hopes to ship to my address, from which I got evicted, a couple of weeks
after we chatted, then she logs out.
I’m on the plane on our way to Coron in
Palawan to attend a wedding, a good old friend texts. I message back. Hey wrong
send. She said she and her expat husband are sometimes afraid their daughter
will go hungry, like me, she is so idealistic. Couldn’t tell her that’s too
much to ask of their daughter.