I was in a jeepney, trying to make my way home - with strangers, a fat lady strangling a chiken, a couple shamelessly grooming each other, and a preacher throwing a sermon upon his own imaginary crowd. He was clutching his bag to his chest, the preacher, and absent-mindedly staring at the person beside me, it seemed, and muttering about divinity and the end of days. The others were smiling, straining not to laugh, while others were indifferent, the couple just stared, as his voice rose above the sounds of people and traffic. I stepped out in front of Robinson's, beneath the traffic lights, away from faceless strangers, from overly-romantic couples, and the insane slouched figure, monotonously muttering still, between them.