Day 42

It was like riding a bullet. The tricycle pod beamed through Panay Avenue, erratically bursting with speed with every tiny gap in the traffic. The inside was black all over save for the small round mirror and the two strips of LED lights blinking in beat with the vibration of the vehicle. Through the sides, I could see the asphalt, gray with darker cobble stones, whisk in scratches. It was like being deprived and shaken at the same time.

(writing practice inspired by