Pam and I were on our way to Binondo that day--and were we on a jeepney or a taxi? I could no longer remember very clearly--when I pointed out to Pam this amazing sight as we were passing by the bridge. Suddenly, in a split of a second, Pam went haywire and immediately, I understood the urgency of our impulse. I went haywire, too.
As if we were in panic, we told the driver to stop and as soon as our feet touched the ground, both of us ran to the edge of the bridge and went crazy snapping photos as soon as we got there, oblivious of all the rushing traffic, which I knew was dangerous. I remember feeling the bridge shake and ramble every time a heavy truck or even a speeding car passed us by and there were just so many of them, passing us by. I feared that I would drop my camera and lost it forever but I continued snapping photos and did not stop.
I was also in constant fear of falling down--because Jones Bridge was a strange and unfamiliar bridge to me; its height an unfamiliar height; its location, an unfamiliar place. I just arrived in the capital city that week and I still had to get to know the place and its madness, but there I was, beside Pam, and both of us sucked into that most pleasurable madness, both madwomen in our own right!
I've been holed inside my room for the entire duration of the Lenten break, so, I missed all the observance of the Passion here, which, based on the telltale signs I kept seeing on the streets on the days leading up to it, has been passionately marked by the community where I live. Still, I sat here deeply engrossed in my reading through out the Holy Week until this morning, when I happened to wake up late to find it's a Happy Easter, and I'd like to greet everyone out there, sending this image of the old the old belfry of the church of the Lady of the Abandoned, and its amazing stained glass windows, which have fascinated me since the first time I entered the church's dark cavernous hall alone.
