I first saw her in Montreal, Canada in the early autumn of 1992. She looked very plain. She was not attractive at all in her red parka. And she was pregnant. But I couldn't get her out of my mind. It was only when I reached home that I realized that I’ve already seen her a few years earlier in Manila. I was not paying attention when I saw her the very first time. How could I have not taken notice of her then? I could not forgive myself.
Then I saw her again. Several times. I spotted her doing menial work after she lost all her possessions. I witnessed how she got intimate with her brother's brother-in-law. I saw her reaction when a photojournalist got obsessed with her. But she never saw me. In fact, she never even knew me. Recently, I heard that she has moved to the United States. So I got excited at the prospect of finally seeing her up close (and if I could find the guts, introducing myself to her).
Since then, I have always wished that I would bump into her along the crowded streets of Manhattan. Or find her seated beside me on the subway train. Or catch her in one of those fancy shops on Fifth Avenue. But I haven’t seen her. In fact, I haven’t seen her for a long time. The last time I heard about her was a couple of months ago. A few people saw her in Miami flirting with a guy named Colin.
If anyone out there gets the chance to see her, please tell her that I’m dying to see her. And touch her. Or just stare at her. For real. Not just in the movies.