Shoes die by themselves. I've found this out time and again when I'd wear a pair that had languished for the longest time inside the shoe cabinet. I'd be reminded of this only at the office when I'd cross my legs, only to see the shoe all cracked up and disintegrating . Once, the gel-like substance from a long-forgotten rubber shoe followed me all over the place before a colleague gently pointed it out.
But I've also used up shoes before their time. My work has taken me places and through situations I'd never imagined and my shoes along with it. I'd covered a mangrove planting activity in Cordova, Mactan with my rubber shoes on. And an ecotour in Banacon Island in Bohol. Both times, we'd reached the sites later than planned and the tide had come in to claim not only my rubber shoes but also my maong pants.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
A Day with Tony Blair

Saturday, May 23, 2009
An ending (written Nov. 20, 2006)
The minute my younger sister got into the car, she started sobbing.
I felt rotten. It was awkward driving and trying to console her while wondering why I was not as grief-stricken as she was.
Our father had died. She’d flown in from the US to pay her last respects and I was driving her to the funeral home where she would see his remains.
I felt rotten. It was awkward driving and trying to console her while wondering why I was not as grief-stricken as she was.
Our father had died. She’d flown in from the US to pay her last respects and I was driving her to the funeral home where she would see his remains.
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