Sometime ago I escaped the city and hied off to Sagada. There I met Rocky, smoking some weed, squatting on a sidewalk. He agreed to a couple of photos, jested that I stole his soul. I owe the guy—I promised to send photos of Sagada, but unfortunately I lost the snail-mail address that he wrote on tiny piece of paper. If any of you know him, do drop me a line where I can send his photos. Thank you, Rocky, and thank you to whoever helps.
I read somewhere that when you meet your greatest love, you also meet your greatest fear. While I can’t exactly agree with it–all because I can’t say what or who my greatest love is–there’s my family, friends, special others, pets, passions–there is one fella that makes me worried to distraction:
This guy moved in with me without so much as a “May I?” The feral that this rascal is, he comes and goes as he pleases, and once vanished. I literally trespassed in search, but no luck. Came home three darn days later–thin and full of dust. Argh. Can’t say this sweet rascal is the one I love most, but he does give me the most headache–people can complain or call 911 to ask for help, but what’s a cat to do except suffer in silence or suffer in meows?
We stand, they say, on the shoulders of our ancestors. Some religions go as far as advocating Ancestor Worship, but in the Philippine culture that I grew up in, it seems visiting our ancestors’ graves every All Saint’s suffices. Last 01 Nov, my brother and I realized that our ancestral gravesite is most likely the last old timer hold out—almost all have been renovated or newly built/re-built. Perhaps in time we will be “forced” to do so as well and put some enclosure on the open space that our grandfathers have chosen as their final resting place. Two days later, I was back, to visit my father and document the place. Not for the last time, I hope.
H Photography 