There’s nothing like waking up to the sound of twitter of birds and the roosters’ crow. I delay to open my eyes for a while, and I am taken back to the place of my childhood: dusty road, trees, mountains.  I am back in my grandparents’ house. My grandmother is glued on her sewing machine, and my grandfather just arrived from a morning route. He smiles as he sees me. “Anak, kain na. Tanghali na!”, my grandmother’s voice echoes from the balcony; it is only 8:00 in the morning.


I open my eyes. And just like that, everything vanished. I see my room’s ceiling, the vinyls and the sunset painting tacked on my wall. I get up and look outside – a messy, empty lot. I am back, although I haven’t really left.


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