2 minute read
the galaxy of us
73 · Angela Cole
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And what I know of both, I know of loss. That’s why I remember it well, you know, one of the last good days I had at The Ateneo, a week before the advent of The End of the World: Maria and I scoping out seats for what would be our last in-campus event; my coin-filled coat pockets singing as I shifted to accommodate the sudden absence of the sweltering heat; sitting between her and another friend–and just a little bit past her to my left: you, who looked over at us curiously every time we doubled over with laughter and disrupted the anvilheavy silence because that afternoon’s speaker was just too funny; something about writing as the rehearsal of joy in real-time; the quirk of your mouth when I caught you staring at me, startled but not exactly displeased. Our professor had insisted that the talk was important; that the speaker could perhaps teach us things that he felt he could not; and besides, our schedules were flexible; we had all the time in the world to make up for one afternoon lost. But he was also the one who taught us that you cannot recreate a moment the same way it happened. That what happened once, never will again. So now, this is something that exists best in memory: my friends and I grasping at each other's shoulders in the dark; the warmth spreading across my tongue as I sampled lemon bars with Maria at the free buffet afterwards; the last Areté mirror selfie I ever took. My body so stuffed with good luck that I felt like I would never run out of it. I would not have turned away without saying goodbye, had I known that it would.
heights Seniors Folio 2022 · 74
Gyuri Cruz
ab philosophy
Maria Jevie “Gyuri” D. Cruz is a philosophy major at home, an artist in her own world, and the compulsive coffee connoisseur of café gyü. She documents most of her works and existential musings on her website, gyurithegreat.com.
heights Seniors Folio 2022 · 76
77 ·Gyuri Cruz
In Finitude
Imagine being in the middle of the world, the exact point in which everything crosses crosses one’s minds crosses, crosses, crosses everyone else carries on their backs
Imagine being in the middle of the universe the deepest space where gravity is concentrated where nothing else matters but the nothingness of matter everyone, hence, is everyone else: is no one else.
Imagine being in the middle of your soul, the boundless silence of whom there is music, weaved within within the lightless cavities within and without shadows and visions yet no one finds wholeness.
Entirety sees its place in infinity but only in finitude is it visible barely, notwithstanding.
heights Seniors Folio 2022 · 78
