Where the Sidewalk Ends

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

– Shel Silverstein

I’ve been burnt out from work for the longest time. The year started with a lot of work coming in from everywhere. While this is, in fact, something to be happy about, things get a little unbearable when your team is undermanned and deadlines come by the hour. I work mostly as an AE these days and I tell you, juggling between clients and creatives is HIGHLY stressful.

As a result, I’ve been getting sick frequently. From bad coughs to hyperacidity, the stress have really been taking its toll on me.

I’m not the type to heave a huge sigh of relief during weekends because I rarely get harassed, but the past few months have seen me looking forward to Fridays even before Monday is done.

So this Holy Week break, I plan to let out a great big sigh of relief. Though my days will be filled with activities at Church, I am still grateful that I won’t be spending the beautiful summer days in front of my laptop, stuck in this concrete beast.

I can’t wait to ESCAPE.
to EXHALE.
to BREATHE.
to LIVE AGAIN.

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Must Love Summer

Sun, sand and surf. Those are the words that get my blood pumping, my toes wiggling and my heart returning to it’s child-like state. I’ve always been a Summer kind of girl. As soon as March begins, my heart quickens and I get so excited to make plans to go to the beach.

I just can’t help it. I’ve been brought up that way. I spent my early childhood enjoying long summers at the beach, learning to swim, playing sandball fights with my daddy, “camping” at the beach with my cousins.

I have a very Pavlovian attitude towards March. Once it starts, and the sun shines painfully bright, I start dreaming of water surrounding me, of swimming deep in 9-foot pools, of gentle waves lulling me.

Ah, summer.

This is why I don’t mind the oppressive heat and the sticky sweat. For me, this uncomfortable heat will always be followed by a delicious dip at the beach. And I get giddy all over again.

The past few years, photography has given a whole new exciting dimension to my Summers. No matter how many shots I’ve taken of the beach, be it a sunset or a sunrise, I still cannot — will not — get over it.

So, hooray, Summer. I’m happy you’re back.