... of an angry daughter and sister whose senses are TERRIBLY confused because she alternates from extreme anger because of the guilt she feels everytime she gets angry at home to extreme guilt because of being angry.
... of a near-to-tears occupation-is-my-passion martyr who stayed late at night, no, until early dawn just so she can finish two scripts and record her voice-over, so she ended up waiting 'till 2AM just so she could hitch a ride with another crew.
... of a half-cooked poet near to tears while hugging herself very strongly, sitting awkwardly in an awkwardly-designed blue chair, switching channels second by second, until, if and only if the TV set were not a property of someone else's (something else's for that matter, a company), she had to fight the urge to smash it with the set of beta tapes scattered in the table.
... of a friend who wondered why she can't find herself to fully breakdown in front of her friends.
... of a tourist/sister/daughter/niece who went to a place where myth and reality mix, water and bodies mix, stench of fish and smell of wet grass mix... where urban mixes with the rural... an untimely yet welcomed chance to see a fast-run view of houses, people, pigs, lamp posts, bridges, municipality markers, bicycles, buses, trycicles, fences, cent shoppes, old women in grass skirts, wooden crucifixes in the middle of the highway, burnt rubber...
... of a faithful, little girl whose prayers get drowned by the incessant noise, clutter or not, inside her head.