I stare blankly at the night outside the glass window finding the right words to say to the girl sitting quietly before me, my hands clenched tight against the cold albeit my body clothed with a sweater.
I stare blankly at the night outside the glass window finding the right words to say to the girl sitting quietly before me. My hands are clenched tight against the cold, albeit my body clothed with a sweater. Continue reading “December’s Eve”
There’s a rock standing still along the shores of Ampere Beach. Continue reading “Rocky Love Affair”
The approach to visit the pristine islands and cerulean waters of Caramoan is long and tiring. Just imagine enduring a more or less 16-hour travel combo of bus, van, trike and boat transfers and you will find yourself totally crazed and dragged if not bored to death. Continue reading “Getting to Caramoan”
From the point where I stand, the contour of Mt. Mayon flaunts its conical perfection. It’s quite the same in every single angle from east to west and north to south. I’ve seen other mountains on my way here which I thought to be the volcano. But the fallacy was instantly rectified the moment I witnessed Mayon’s sophistication. Illustrations in school textbooks and glossy magazines weren’t lying as the sleeping giant is truly filled with majesty in the truest sense of the word. And the lady beside me — my girlfriend and a local in the region — she elucidates every story in our exploration of her hometown.
Continue reading “She’s Like Mt. Mayon”