welcomed warmly at the table of filipino writers, young and old, over cigarettes, lumpia, and san mig. an orange cat taking turns napping on the humid concrete steps and under our plastic stools. rizal and apostol echo in my ears and i’m just happy to talk about poetry and literature. the ethos of sharing: i am because we are, i am who i am connected to. i think that manila looks the most beautiful when it rains. i’ve never seen it so green, its history pours out of cracks in the walls.