Sitting on my twisted-abaca chair, bought from the flea market that is Dapitan, at eleven in the quiet evening of this village in the heart of the metropolis where everything becomes deathly still except for the sounds of the motor of the occasional tricycle passing by, the engine hum of a car on its final way home ,at least for the day, and the barking of a dog disturbed in the middle of its deep sleep, I think of my friends.
Travel friends
Artist friends
Graduate school friends
Teacher friends
Doctor friends
Biology but non-doctor friends
High school friends
El Nido and Coron friends
The past days have not been so good on me. Sitting in the middle of the night with no one but myself and my thoughts, back aching, head throbbing and arms sore, I thought about things I can be happy about. It helped to think about all my friends.
