Away from Manila. Stepped on sand south by southeast from her.
Allowing blue waters to enter my ears as though they were Beethoven’s Pastoral symphony.
Attempted to conquer the waves but the waves conquered me and my woes.
Walked back to the shore dripping with water and worries.
Hopped from island to island, and on each, leaving only footprints and problems.
Away from Manila. Embraced the island, she embraced back. Came back to Manila in a different color. Now my exterior is dark, but my purpose, or at least the spirit with which I see it, has never been brighter.
P.S. And then I went home. And filtered all the photos. And came up with a fancy worded verses to go with them. Because I was, actually and undeniably, born in 1991. Deal with it.