Compromised.

What is the difference of Andrea Bocelli's version of 'Power of Love' and that of the Phantom of the Opera's "All I Ask of You"?
It made me reflect on 'compromised liberty.'
I can chuckle on that.
Last night, as I laid myself in the cold water of Timoga's swimming pool to revert a nagging headache, I silently counted the visible stars of the dark sky. Thirty stars and I submerged with thoughts on "thirty minutes permissible freedom to be myself alone." Alone. And, I mean alone.
Wow!
Thirty minutes... and its as if I am celebrating myself.
There are changes and developments in our lives that made me somehow forget to see the usual me. That's what I am trying to figure out as I mirrored on the water's movement with the limited refraction of light over darkness. And I saw how points are interconnected; intertwined.
Before, when I'll felt that this world is damn or if there is a nagging thought that is taunting my membrane, I'd pack unhesitatingly all my swim wears and lob myself at Tinago Falls, a home of wanderers and nature lovers. I'd let the waterfalls fell on my head and arms. The rainbows there, a terrific God's art, are witnesses to my idiosyncrasies. I can even take a nap there on top of a flat stone, of what seem to me a tablet for rest, until the resort's boy would remind me that the world is getting dark.
There is a healing power of nature in that falls and it seems to communicate with me because at swimming spree's end, I felt I am well and threading again to the right direction.
Last night, I was trying to be content with the cool water of Timoga swimming pool. And, despite presence of few others I'm oblivious of, I felt it was celebration enough.
It was compromised.
Just like a compromised liberty.