This is home. No matter what, this is home. I close my eyes—I hear the low birdsong floating over the roaring of earthbound engines and feel the tension between earth and sky holding me still. I don’t mind the people in the same way they don’t mind me. We all suffer from different agonies.
There is a certain force, an internal pain, which I feel. This pain may just be a blip in the universe, but it is, at the same time, enormous. I need to rest.
Let me rest. Let me heal, for a while, in my home.
Words by ANDREA JAMAICA H. JACINTO
Photo by LORENZO ABEL S. DIONISIO
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