The catastrophic deluge of manila has made me ponder about the hostility of the natural calamities that always seem hellbent in befalling our archipelago. Falls and landslides could be man-made but the thick and abundant amount of rainfalls and the gushing, swift winds brought about by super typhoons are like a hellish curse testing the emotional strengths and reserves of a people already inundated with more than their share of basic struggles. Surviving through the eye of the tempest is a way of life. Signal number three was already petrifying. Now, I’m hearing about signal number five. The wind is getting stronger and more menacing. Hopefully there would be much improved technology in predicting weather patterns. Hopefully.
As I scan through the websites in the internet, I’ve decided to touch base with the pages of our local paper in Bacolod. Twinkling’s columns were a diurnal constant, while her sister was the very strict, eyebrows-furrowing head of the math department of my high school. There are also the other columnists, now in their much older, much wiser journey, regaling the constituency with musings about the polemics of social change. It's Masskara time in Bacolod right now, a festive time to visit the city, parades, street dancing and cultural meanderings.
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