I was nineteen in the summer of 1991 and it was my first vacation home after a whole year away. Looking back, it seemed outwardly uneventful except for a nagging, persistent feeling of disenchantment, of discontent.
After a year of new knowledge and experiences as an art student at a university in Diliman I was longing to go back to the hometown where the people on the streets were faces that I knew, where cars were few and traffic was not a thing, where you could go from point A to point B in a straight line without encountering a one way sign which put you on a loop that took you farther away from your destination, where the hardware stores in downtown Divisoria closed for lunch because the local businessmen had their afternoon siestas.… Continue reading... “You Can’t Cross The Same River Twice”
