...is washed by alcohol.
By a day, there are thousands of narratives authored by the first time voters, by those who marked the first Philippine automated elections legendary, by those who had their names missing, by those who by this time where eating meals from their votes sold for a couple of purple-tainted peso bills.
There are thousands of stories of fullfilment and failure, of chance and luck, of sincerity and dishonesty.
Sure I have my own.
Like almost everyone else, I had this feeling of glee once the machine has swallowed my ballot up and congratulated me that my vote has been registered; after all this time wondering whose name should I vote for to win or for the reason that like me, there are many others who think the same for the future; or for the simple reason that I haven't made this election a part-time job -- makes me just happy.
This experience, is endless. Like stories by nature, this long tail of stories shall continue telling itself. So is mine. The election may have its final result, but that does not give off the fact the story of it has stories ahead, continuously.
Take this stain. It may have ended its purpose on my finger with a drop of alcohol but later in time this finger will be stained again. The story never ends.
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