The hands of Ang Suga | Moalboal, Cebu, Philippines “Te Jo, paita gyud diay aning atong kinabuhi,” said Wang. We were sitting on the shore, with my thoughts being carried away by the waves and reached the ranges of Negros. However, other serious matters occupied Wang. “Tan-awa, magsuwat ko,” he said and drew a line on the sand. Not later than five seconds, the waves claimed the line. I kept on staring at the place where the line was once. Stared. Stared. And his point sank in my feverous head.