Water Vendor | Taal Volcano, Batangas Perhaps Brandi Carlile had this kind of face on mind while writing the first stanza of “The Story.” All of these lines across my face / Tell you the story of who I am / So many stories of where I’ve been / And how I got to where I am Those wrinkles, like small rivers trailing on her face, are storied. Laughter may have caused the line crawling on her cheek. Or tears. Or time. Life.
Kawasan Falls, Matutinao, Badian, Cebu, Philippines It was a sleepless night. I was reading this poem in the wee hours of the morning at McDonald’s Mango while waiting for Mara, the PR consultant of Terra Manna Camping and Resort. I didn’t know that we would visit the river that kept on flowing in my memory. Rivers are ardent travelers and drifters. Rivers are lives not lived.
Siquijor, Siquijor, Philippines While sitting under the thick foliage of Acacia trees lining Dumaguete’s boulevard, we spied a blur of an island riding the edges of the sea. “Siquijor,” a friend said. The way the tongue curls for “jor” elicits an immediate longing to walk its beaches and start a conversation with a fisherman about the lights that can be seen across the strait. Whereas Dumaguete’s night was images of lights and young love, Siquijor’s of witchcraft and isolation. Yet, its appearance from afar is a big deception. Perhaps to mislead its visitors. Or perhaps to draw them more. I […]