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by Isla Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Other · Experience · #1537372
My first ever post in a blog
On the screen of my ancient cellphone is the word ‘pentimento’. Most people, who are afraid to ask questions in pretense that it would degrade their educational achievements or demean their intellectual status (whatever it means), second-guessed the word as a code:

‘It’s a combination of two or even three words – names of his ex-ex perhaps.’

To few who have the courage to ask (I am in belief that there’s nothing demeaning in asking questions; in fact, it shows one’s interest and perhaps a manifestation of a want for growth), I always say that ‘pentimento’ is that image in a painting that was there before and now it’s gone because the artist decided to put something else in its place – a product of a changing mind – or something like that.

Dictionaries describe ‘pentimento’ as an underlying image in a painting, as an earlier painting, part of a painting, or original draft, that shows through, usually when the top layer of paint has become transparent with age.

My explanation was near enough.

I first came about the word in Lilian Hellman’s book ‘Pentimento’ -- that was 20 years ago. I even forgot what the book is all about. But the word stuck in me basically because I thought then that the word described me – my inner me, I mean -- my life; my ever-changing life – warts and all (incidentally, that was the title of my first ever blog, not in Blogger).

Years changed me in countless ways but I’m still that same person who smiles at a sight people in love, who’s smittened by a smiling baby, who craves for pansit canton or bihon, who cries and claps after a very good movie, who melts in front of my crush(es) (ask me no question, I'll tell you no lies), who lounges lifelessly in bed when there’s a good book to read.

I may have become more hmm...mature now but time and again, I still manifest the old me and I guess in every person, the old self can not really be erased permanently. We are all, in some degree, has a petimento.

Here now and going, going, gone. Until someone else notices the old painting within us.
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