I have a feeling of moving earth or walking off my itchiness. The growing fat in my belly tells me I am failing on many occasions to give in to this urge. My eyes are blurred by morning glory. I remember my father having the same ritual in the morning. After his weak stroke, he couldn't speak much, just a grunt but he would demonstrate with hand how he liked to wash his face. The weather wasn't helping. It's been raining cats and dogs the past week. The province of Rizal was soaked and spilled volumes of water into the bay and Laguna lake. Our Caimito tree was cut to no more than 4 feet from the ground. It was towering above the corrugated sheet metal of our roof. Now it lay horizontal on the yard. I calculated it could be made into a whole table and chairs set by a talented carpenter artist. I showed Lino the two big pieces of trunk that could only be moved if cut by a power saw in place. The road widening project in San Mateo was in the middle stage. One side of the road ...
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