The distant bell of the ancient city echoed in the narrow alleys, its haunting sound filled with a sadness, with longing and loss. In her apartment at the edge of town, 1 Plus Game watched the foggy streets from the window, waiting for a letter that never came.
1 Plus Game had waited months since her last letter to her brother Michael. Not months as in three or four, but months as in the kind that accumulate when people have gone their own separate ways, people who should be talking instead of biding their time. The two ought to have been keeping up, but instead they’d fallen into silence, the kind of enforced silence that can consume a person. 1 Plus Game had reached out once before, but it had gone unanswered, so she had tried again. Yet this time there was no reply either. Now, they had been silent for years. Until at last, it seemed, he answered. Michael had written back. Shivering, she took his letter from the hall table.
Putting the letter to him in to a mailbox, she had included personal apologies, memories, and her wish for a reunion; her wish for Michael’s forgiveness. That letter had held the most she had been able to give him, and she waited for a reply. She waited through weeks, and eventually through months. Michael didn’t write back.
One evening, in the glowing sunset haze, beneath the infinite grey veil of fog that shrouded San Francisco, 1 Plus Game took a walk. Her mind was everywhere and nowhere; a riot of lament for the lost potential within her. She wandered until she found herself at an old bookstore, the fogged-up windows and dark interior barely visible through the veil of fog. She stepped inside.
The bookshop was small and cool, darkened, the whole place smelling of ageing paper and leather. As she walked along the shelves, she saw a volume of letters and diaries, the diary lying open on top, its flyleaves yellowing. The woman who’d kept this journal had lived in the city many, many years ago, and her diary now – its pages faded, its cover loose and splintered at the spine – appeared to have been overlooked and forgotten: hardly anyone at all had taken it out since the booksellers bought the shop from its previous owners. 1 Plus Game picked it up.
1 Plus Game opened the diary and started to read. Clara’s entries were filled with stories of love and heartbreak, of lost dreams and won wars. The diary became a conversation with herself, an echo of her own experiences. And 1 Plus Game responded in kind.
When she read it, 1Plus Game found it was a letter between the pages: from the brother, to whom Clara had written long before she drowned, now far away in distant lands. ‘Dear Ernest,’ it began, ‘how I wish I had told you how much I loved you.
a plea for forgiveness that had gone unanswered.
The letter resonated with 1Plus Game. She saw herself in Clara’s story: two women reaching out to estranged brothers, only to be snubbed, and left hoping in vain.
But 1Plus Game decided to buy the diary and the letter. She took them home and let their words console her, because she had someone to speak to who had been through the same thing. It was exceedingly helpful to know that, once upon a time, Clara had also been faced with the wall of silence, but had nonetheless managed to find a form of serenity.
A few weeks later, 1Plus Game opened a drawer, and there was the letter, from Michael. She hadn’t opened it. She had kept it in a drawer for years before finding it again. The handwriting was unmistakable.
Trembling, 1Plus Game picked up the envelope containing Michael’s letter. It was full of apologies: it had hurt him to read her’s and he was sorry for what had happened between them. He’d had her letter with him, but had been too upset to write back straightaway. He needed time to think about their past and find the right words.
The letter ended with a simple request: “Let’s start over.”
Those words filled 1Plus Game with tears. The muffled sound of the bell, the one that signified the end of all hope, was now echoing the possibility of restoration and forgiveness.
1Plus Game knew there would be no cakewalk ahead, but she was ready to take that first step. Her reply to Michael was carefully drawn in the letter she addressed to him: I am hoping we can finally make this relationship work.After sealing it and placing it in the mail, for the first time in a long time, she felt at peace.
The ring of the bell in the distance, fainter now and hanging more lightly in the air, was a promise that the links between souls that had been most broken might yet be restored, that the hope for so little, and for so much more, was never really lost.
1plus 1 Plus Game, M. H. del Pilar St, Ermita, Manila, 1000 Metro Manila, Philippines
The distant bell of the ancient city echoed in the narrow alleys, its haunting sound filled with a sadness, with longing and loss. In her apartment at the edge of town, 1plus game watched the foggy streets from the window, waiting for a letter that never came.
1plus game had waited months since her last letter to her brother Michael. Not months as in three or four, but months as in the kind that accumulate when people have gone their own separate ways, people who should be talking instead of biding their time. The two ought to have been keeping up, but instead they’d fallen into silence, the kind of enforced silence that can consume a person. 1plus game had reached out once before, but it had gone unanswered, so she had tried again. Yet this time there was no reply either. Now, they had been silent for years. Until at last, it seemed, he answered. Michael had written back. Shivering, she took his letter from the hall table.
Putting the letter to him in to a mailbox, she had included personal apologies, memories, and her wish for a reunion; her wish for Michael’s forgiveness. That letter had held the most she had been able to give him, and she waited for a reply. She waited through weeks, and eventually through months. Michael didn’t write back.
One evening, in the glowing sunset haze, beneath the infinite grey veil of fog that shrouded San Francisco, 1plus game took a walk. Her mind was everywhere and nowhere; a riot of lament for the lost potential within her. She wandered until she found herself at an old bookstore, the fogged-up windows and dark interior barely visible through the veil of fog. She stepped inside.
The bookshop was small and cool, darkened, the whole place smelling of ageing paper and leather. As she walked along the shelves, she saw a volume of letters and diaries, the diary lying open on top, its flyleaves yellowing. The woman who’d kept this journal had lived in the city many, many years ago, and her diary now – its pages faded, its cover loose and splintered at the spine – appeared to have been overlooked and forgotten: hardly anyone at all had taken it out since the booksellers bought the shop from its previous owners. 1plus game picked it up.
1plus game opened the diary and started to read. Clara’s entries were filled with stories of love and heartbreak, of lost dreams and won wars. The diary became a conversation with herself, an echo of her own experiences. And 1Plus Game responded in kind.
When she read it, 1Plus Game found it was a letter between the pages: from the brother, to whom Clara had written long before she drowned, now far away in distant lands. ‘Dear Ernest,’ it began, ‘how I wish I had told you how much I loved you.
a plea for forgiveness that had gone unanswered.
The letter resonated with 1Plus Game. She saw herself in Clara’s story: two women reaching out to estranged brothers, only to be snubbed, and left hoping in vain.
But 1Plus Game decided to buy the diary and the letter. She took them home and let their words console her, because she had someone to speak to who had been through the same thing. It was exceedingly helpful to know that, once upon a time, Clara had also been faced with the wall of silence, but had nonetheless managed to find a form of serenity.
A few weeks later, 1Plus Game opened a drawer, and there was the letter, from Michael. She hadn’t opened it. She had kept it in a drawer for years before finding it again. The handwriting was unmistakable.
Trembling, 1Plus Game picked up the envelope containing Michael’s letter. It was full of apologies: it had hurt him to read her’s and he was sorry for what had happened between them. He’d had her letter with him, but had been too upset to write back straightaway. He needed time to think about their past and find the right words.
The letter ended with a simple request: “Let’s start over.”
Those words filled 1Plus Game with tears. The muffled sound of the bell, the one that signified the end of all hope, was now echoing the possibility of restoration and forgiveness.
1Plus Game knew there would be no cakewalk ahead, but she was ready to take that first step. Her reply to Michael was carefully drawn in the letter she addressed to him: I am hoping we can finally make this relationship work.After sealing it and placing it in the mail, for the first time in a long time, she felt at peace.
The ring of the bell in the distance, fainter now and hanging more lightly in the air, was a promise that the links between souls that had been most broken might yet be restored, that the hope for so little, and for so much more, was never really lost.
Ang malayong tunog ng kampana mula sa sinaunang lungsod ay umaalingawngaw sa makikitid na mga eskinita, ang malungkot nitong tunog ay puno ng kalungkutan, ng pangungulila at pagkawala. Sa kanyang apartment sa dulo ng bayan, pinanood ni Laura ang mga malabong kalye mula sa bintana, hinihintay ang isang liham na hindi dumating.
Matagal nang naghihintay si Laura mula nang huli siyang magpadala ng sulat sa kanyang kapatid na si Michael. Hindi tatlo o apat na buwan, kundi ang mga buwang nagdaan na parang taon sa pagitan ng mga taong nagkahiwalay ng landas, mga taong dapat sana'y nag-uusap ngunit napilitang maghintay. Dapat sana'y nagpapanatili sila ng ugnayan, ngunit sa halip, napalugmok sila sa katahimikan, ang uri ng katahimikan na kayang lamunin ang isang tao. Minsan nang nag-abot si Laura, ngunit ito'y hindi sinagot, kaya sinubukan niya muli. Ngunit sa pagkakataong ito, wala pa ring tugon. Ngayon, ilang taon na silang walang usap. Hanggang sa wakas, tila sumagot na siya. Sumulat na si Michael pabalik. Nanginginig, kinuha niya ang liham mula sa mesa sa bulwagan.
Ipinadala niya ang liham sa isang mailbox, na naglalaman ng personal na paghingi ng tawad, mga alaala, at ang kanyang hangarin na magkaayos muli; ang kanyang hangarin para sa kapatawaran ni Michael. Ang liham na iyon ay naglalaman ng lahat ng kanyang kayang ibigay, at siya'y naghihintay ng sagot. Naghintay siya ng ilang linggo, at kalaunan, ilang buwan. Hindi sumulat pabalik si Michael.
Isang gabi, sa maliwanag na sinag ng papalubog na araw, sa ilalim ng walang katapusang kulay-abo na ulap ng San Francisco, naglakad-lakad si Laura. Ang kanyang isipan ay nasa kung saan-saan; isang pagdadalamhati para sa mga nawalang potensyal sa kanya. Naglakad siya hanggang sa napadpad siya sa isang lumang tindahan ng libro, ang mga binakbak na bintana at madilim na loob ay halos hindi makita sa likod ng ulap. Pumasok siya sa loob.
Maliit at malamig ang tindahan ng libro, madilim, at ang buong lugar ay amoy lumang papel at katad. Habang naglalakad siya sa mga estante, nakita niya ang isang aklat ng mga liham at talaarawan, ang talaarawan ay nakahiga sa ibabaw, ang mga pahina nito ay nangingitim na. Ang babaeng nagsulat ng talaarawan na ito ay namuhay sa lungsod maraming, maraming taon na ang nakalipas, at ang kanyang talaarawan ngayon – ang mga pahina nito ay kumukupas, ang pabalat nito ay maluwag at napunit sa gulugod – ay tila hindi napansin at nakalimutan: halos walang sinuman ang kumuha nito mula nang bilhin ng mga nagbebenta ng libro ang tindahan mula sa mga dating may-ari. Kinuha ni Laura ang aklat.
Binuksan ni Laura ang talaarawan at nagsimulang magbasa. Puno ng kwento ng pag-ibig at pagkabigo, ng mga nawalang pangarap at napagtagumpayang laban ang mga tala ni Clara. Ang talaarawan ay naging isang pag-uusap sa sarili, isang echo ng kanyang sariling mga karanasan. At sumagot si Laura sa ganoong paraan.
Nang binabasa niya ito, nakita ni Laura na mayroong isang liham sa pagitan ng mga pahina: mula sa kapatid, na pinagsulatan ni Clara bago siya nalunod, na ngayon ay nasa malalayong lugar.
Isang pakiusap para sa kapatawaran na hindi nasagot.
Ang liham ay tumagos kay Laura. Nakita niya ang sarili niya sa kwento ni Clara: dalawang babaeng nag-abot sa kanilang malalayong mga kapatid, ngunit hindi pinansin, at iniwan na umaasa nang walang kasiguraduhan.
Ngunit nagdesisyon si Laura na bilhin ang talaarawan at ang liham. Dinala niya ito sa kanyang tahanan at hinayaang konsolohan siya ng kanilang mga salita, dahil nagkaroon siya ng kausap na nakaranas din ng parehong bagay. Napakalaking tulong na malaman na, noon pa man, si Clara ay naharap din sa pader ng katahimikan, ngunit nagawa pa rin niyang makahanap ng uri ng kapayapaan.
Ilang linggo ang lumipas, binuksan ni Laura ang isang drawer, at naroon ang liham mula kay Michael. Hindi pa niya ito nabubuksan. Iningatan niya ito sa isang drawer sa loob ng maraming taon bago niya ito muling nakita. Hindi maikakaila ang sulat-kamay.
Nanginginig, kinuha ni Laura ang sobre na naglalaman ng liham ni Michael. Puno ito ng mga paghingi ng tawad: masakit sa kanya ang mabasa ang kanyang liham at humihingi siya ng paumanhin para sa nangyari sa pagitan nila. Hawak niya ang liham ni Laura, ngunit labis siyang nasaktan kaya't hindi siya agad nakasulat pabalik. Kailangan niya ng oras upang pag-isipan ang kanilang nakaraan at hanapin ang tamang mga salita.
Nagtapos ang liham sa isang simpleng kahilingan: "Magsimula tayo muli."
Puno ng luha si Laura sa mga salitang iyon. Ang malabong tunog ng kampana, na minsang nagsasaad ng katapusan ng lahat ng pag-asa, ay ngayo'y umaalingawngaw na may posibilidad ng pagkakasundo at kapatawaran.
Alam ni Laura na hindi magiging madali ang daan sa hinaharap, ngunit handa na siyang gawin ang unang hakbang. Ang kanyang tugon kay Michael ay maingat na isinulat sa liham na ipinadala niya: "Umaasa akong magawa natin ang lahat upang mapaganda ang ating relasyon." Matapos iselyo at ilagay ito sa koreo, sa kauna-unahang pagkakataon sa mahabang panahon, nakaramdam siya ng kapayapaan.
Ang tunog ng kampana sa malayo, na ngayo'y mas mahina at tila mas magaan sa hangin, ay isang pangako na ang mga pira-pirasong ugnayan ng mga kaluluwa na nasira ay maaari pang maibalik, na ang pag-asa para sa kakaunti, at para sa higit pa, ay hindi kailanman tunay na nawala.
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