Pale Moon: Follow the Money

 

 

Rika Umezawa, married to a sexless man, is bored with her mundane housewife life. She took up a bank job where she visits the houses of her elderly clients–offering them bonds and insurance; helping them with their deposits and withdrawals. Millions of money flow through her hands daily, clasping them as if they’re just pieces of paper.

Rika met Kota, the grandson of one of her clients. Kota is Rika’s salvation from her boring husband. Kota, a young college student, is filled with sexual vigor–something that’s extinct from Rika’s life. Rika fell in love with Kota and she will do her best to let this man of energy stay in her conservative life; this man of energy who showed her how to be happy to remain such; this lad who made her feel loved to feel loved, too. She knows that only those pieces of paper that riffle through her hands will make him stay. And so she embezzled the money of her clients, pocketing millions of yen; with Kota and her enjoying a nouveau riche lifestyle.

Kota, clueless about his lover’s fraud, enjoys his luxurious days. He who suffers from debt is finally experiencing the freedom that money can give. Rika, clueless about her impending fall, continues her immoral ways so as to let Kota stay–to let her happiness and freedom remain. That she will betray her senile and gullible clients just so she can give her life the meaning that it deserves, albeit that meaning, she knows, will never last. And “as things like that always happen,” Kota left her and soon, she found herself cornered–destroyed by the pieces of paper that made her alive. Indeed, money makes the world go round. Money makes the world go rant.

“Money is fake, it’s just paper,” says Mrs. Sumi. But this paper can give a person freedom from the conventional society. Yet, such freedom is still dictated by mores. Thus, the happiness that money can give is limited to what money can buy, to what the society can supply.

Money is mores, pal
Your life, cash-driven, will change
‘Til there’s no moral.

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Tinta

Mahal kita gaya ng itim:
Malalim
Madiin
Mabigat
Mahal kita hanggang dilim.

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Ginawa (o nagawa?) ko ‘to isang gabi nang matapon ko ‘yong acrylic paint sa bahay. Naisipan kong paglaruan na lang. Gumamit ako ng permanent marker bilang brush, pero ‘yong gamit ko ay ‘yong malambot sa loob ng marker kung saan kumakapit ‘yong tinta. Ayun, ito ang naging resulta. Bukod pa sa pintadong kamay na umaga na’y hindi pa rin nabubura.

Kamatsile

Nang una kong matikman ang kamatsile,
Hindi ko maipaliwanag ang lasa–
May kapaklaan at nanunuot sa bunganga
Ngunit ‘yong pakla ay may kasamang tamis.

May kakunatan din ito’t malutong ang ibang laman
Na kapag kinagat mo’y kumakapit sa ngalangala–
Baka upang manamnam mo ang ‘di mawaring lasa
O mabigyan ka ng panahong magpasya kung masarap ba.

Oo, masarap ‘yong kamatsile’t nakalulungkot na bihira ito sa lungsod,
Kung bakit sa napakalayong Abra ko pa natikman ang bungang ito
Ay patunay na may mga bagay na masarap balikan,
Mahirap man maipinta kung anong dapat malasahan o maramdaman.

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