Thousands of people have passed by this old street they call Calle Crisologo

Thousands of people are still passing, bumping each other without saying “Hi and Hellos”

At times it is crowded, sometimes one would feel alone

But this street is always mysterious, it could prolly be the cobblestones.

Everyone’s busy. Everyone’s amused.

That feeling of seeing something for the first time

It’s always amazing

Yes, it’s always amazing.

The feeling is good!

The array of vintage houses

This sight itself is truly a delight

An eye candy sort of sepia type.

The music of horses’ hooves

The vintage shops on the sides

What could you ever ask for?

Ah.. hmm.. a countless selfies, maybe?

Dear, let’s capture the memories, por favor?

Speakin’ of antiquity and richness

Seem like History tickles one’s mind in every step

One, two, three, another step

Sunddenly

My knees tremble…

Shifting from present to past, past to present 

In a snap, I felt

Dislocated, confused, and vice versa

Why is it so perpetually good to look back?

Why do we wish these muted old walls could talk?

Why do we believe that people can just let bygones be bygones?

Why do we desire to relive the memories that have long been deeply embellished?

The answer? None.

The answer. Run.

Thousands of people have passed by this old street they call Calle Crisologo

Thousands of people are still passing, How I wish we could bump into each other again and say “Hi and Hellos”
But then again, I answered none. I ran.