Sinturon ni Hudas
Honking of cars
Multitude of speakers on full blast playing Jolina’s latest song on cassette
A pair of tambays running across the pavement dragging a piece of rusty yero
[add other noises as you please]
Sound erupts from the sky, swells up from the ground. The silence of the year crumbles under the weight of the cries, yells, orgasms we repressed and we now fling into the air. And we do not care. For this one night, as another year suffocates into memory, the others will not care too. As a saxophonist puffs off his life from his lungs, or as the rebel waits for the final boom of her nitrogycerine convictions, sounds will erupt tonight, and we will bask in each other’s noise with the glee of a newly-born.