Along Commonwealth Avenue rolls an effigy of the President, a large loathful lizard with the head of the President, its legs tightly coiled around a miniature version of Malacanang in an almost deathlike grip, as if choking the very life out of the country itself in an almost desperate effort to cling to even the fraying ends of power.
Rallyists and policeman volley taunts and sharp stones back and forth as if they were beach balls.
The color of the Manila skyline is dominated by flags of the deepest shade of scarlet. On the streets, people in jeans and worn-out shirts holler for decent lives and GMA's resignation. In the great halls of Congress, house representatives dressed in their finest garb applaud the embattled president.
This is divisiveness in its finest hour.
Elsewhere, unperturbed by the political mayhem and unmindful of the riot that could erupt at any minute along Commonwealth, my eyebrows furrow as I keep careful watch while my sister painstakingly paints my fingernails black.
I have no profound reasons for deciding to dip my fingernails in the shadow of night. This has nothing to do with the time and trends. I am no rebel and I am not even making a fashion statement. Perhaps it was slightly triggered by remorse after my father's cellphone got stolen yesterday. Needless to say, it was a dictate of whim. But nevertheless it was nothing greater than an ordinary activity in what would later turn out to be (after watching GMA's SONA) a rather ordinary day for me.
The last time Blackfinger made an appearance, my life was fully devoid of drama. It is going to be immensely interesting what Blackfinger is to witness this time around.
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