The machine at the Ortigas gym for working out the lower back is situated in a unique spot, I discovered. The gym itself is on the 35th floor of the building, right next door to the building where I used to work. The vantage that I'm given when seated at the machine is such that when I look to my right, I can easily see this building. To my 11 o'clock, I can see the familiar Makati skyline. The buildings are blanketed by a pale haze that renders a monotone to their proud arrangement. I can make out the sequence of the more dominant Ayala Ave. buildings, and to their extreme left, just a tiny finger among them, I can recognize the familiar greenish structure topped with a bowl - the building where I currently work, but only until Monday.

It's a comforting sight, knowing that Manila isn't really that big a place, and that I can never really be inaccessibly distant from the many people who have constituted the last six years of my life. I settle into a more relaxed position just to breathe in the significance of my realization and see a biggish woman balled up in front of me, awkwardly attempting a difficult abdominal workout. I look at the two buildings again and think: "Does this count as an upskirt?"

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