Cubaw, Coobaw, Qbao, Kuhbaw, Cubao

I was brought, in a fit of spontaneity, to the wonderful world of Cubao. Minding my own business during my design class, desperately trying to finish my illustrations for a storybook, I get the wildest text I've received in days. Arabella and I were invited to accompany a friend to a photoshoot by a prominent figure behind the lens (yes, that's wild for me. things like that don't happen to me). As a natural born adventurer I said yes and I was whisked away to New Manila.

The shoot was...quiet. Unexpectedly so but still enriching.

After we decided to go to Cubao Ex which Arabella has been raving about ever since we met. Going through rows and rows of vinyl records made me think of the people that once owned them.

Was this their favorite record?

If so, why is it up for sale?

How many times a day did they listen to it?

Were they victims of bad 80's hair too?

Are they even still alive?

Surrounded by antiques makes you think what it would have been like to be a part of that era where it felt like the utmost triumph when you saved enough for a record. When you'd be sad because you can't take it with you to school but extremely excited to get back home because you know your favorite hymn is there waiting for you in your private chambers.

Before I get super pretentious and go on about how every little object had a deeper life fulfilling meaning to it then *insert sadness here and deep quote with no correlation whatsoever, let's just say after all of that rummaging, I was itching for a bath.

The cab ride home with Arabella was one of the more fun parts because we were talking in ways that only the two of us could comprehend. Lumabas ang pagka-hayop namin.

A day well spent.

You can have Arabella's photos:

Note to future self who will probably go back to Cubao Ex: BRING ALCOHOL.

             X from the girl who will from now on make titles as long as she can,

                                                                                     Aya