Shifting Gears
My father believed that life could flourish even when surrounded by cold concrete sidewalks, black asphalt roads and the row upon row of silent houses that sat on stiff but detached cobbled stone shoulders, staring blankly into space as the days went by. This was Manduriao, Iloilo, my first home. The noiseless streets never drove me away. It only meant that there was more space for laughter and interesting chatter. It meant more space for my dreams, dreams that were expanding and multiplying. It meant more time seeing what else I could when everything seemed so familiar. (more…)
