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Bryan Jumarang - Story
Chapter 12
It was early Monday morning, on my way to this new museum. The sun was just starting to set its bright gaze against the horizon.Honestly I wasn’t sure of what I may find there. This trip was part of my assignment for an architectural publication. Funny, but I think they wanted to surprise me with something interesting.
I have been to different places, but this one is quite different. For one, it used to be the residence of an army commander. This place was once a symbol of unparalleled courage and bravery, until that very fateful day, when their forces finally succumbed to foreign invasion. It was a gloomy day for this humble nation. Freedom and a bright future was deprived, just like the sun, obscured by clouds, preventing it from spreading its rays of hope towards this beautiful land.
Finally, after a long trip, I arrived at the place, just in time, though I’m a bit early as a visitor. I parked by the main entrance, and then walked myself through the gully, caught up with everyone who was just starting to prepare their places for the usual visitors, tourists and students, mostly. Feeling welcomed by the morning breeze and the presence of nature beyond these strong walls, embracing me. The government did not pretty much change the overall surrounding; it still reminds you of the turbulent past, now standing along these lush greeneries and trees. It was so inviting yet the feeling of torment that once filled the place, recurs.
Taking the stairs, I held the intricate etching works that adorned the handrails, which i think, was the original motif of the structure's railing and handrail component. I have been turning my head into all directions, from the moment that I set foot, until I reached my spot. And there it was, magnificently standing in front of me, a huge and majestic structure. As I stand from a close distance, I envisioned a scene where the structure's appearance was perfectly matching, its grandiose and superiority. An image that was, in itself, a royalty, backed by an ample amount of trees and shrubs under that morning sky. The interior glowing from within, it was outstanding. The armaments, the horse-drawn carriages and everything else, were diligently restored and maintained for everyone to view and appreciate. There I was, admiring all the reconstructions and the way they preserved its historical significance. It really was something.
It was indeed inspiring; my cliques back at work really did have something in store for me. After a short chat with the curator, I patiently took photos of the place, carefully studying each shot before committing to it. And soon enough, I was done, mission accomplished, the memory remains.
Tuesday, I was back in my hotel room. After my morning rituals, I grabbed my Canon EOS 1D Mark III, dashed through the hallway, on my way to a local photo studio. Everything was perfectly normal, when all of a sudden, it hit me. What really transpired while I was inside that museum. I heard voices echoed from those stone walls, i had visions, though I am not perfectly sure if that was real, maybe it
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