in the island born of fire




I ate tinolang isda –

learned what adto ta means, along with kopaw, pastilan, and ambot –

met three other Jennifers –

got “single traveling girl” discounts from kind-hearted boat owners –

rode a boat with her name on it (the kopaw boat owner was married to a Jennifer) –

and visited the White Island, twice, for the sunset and the sunrise –

Ah, yes, finally I was able to do that – along with drawing piko boxes on the sand with a chalk-shaped coral, and skipping within the lines, picking up my flat coral pato.

It was heartbreaking to leave. So I’ll just go back. I already promised my humble, plain cottage on the shore that I would.

Now off to… wait, somebody’s playing Skyline Pigeon on the radio. Am I supposed to contemplate about this too? I’m not even supposed to pour out everything here.

I could wait until the song is through –


Hard November. Good November. Thank you.