the sandcastle that turned real

when i first visited boracay 5 years ago, sandcastles weren’t this tall. nor the people who made them.


they were molded by kids. 5 year old kids. 7 year old kids. 9 year old kids. and i appreciated it more that way. seeing adults built them, guarding them like hawks, asking upfront for “donations” when you take pictures of them makes it rather too commercialized for enjoyment.

i have always enjoyed all my boracay travels. there is something about the 7-km stretch of powdery white sands that makes me feel better about everything. but the last visits to the island feels like visiting an amazing, remarkable grandmother rotten and wasted away by medicines pumped into her. the obvious overcharging and greed for immediate financial returns are dismissing the inherent need of the island to be properly handled to extend its natural beauty.


this sort of reminded me about global warming and how i told david afterwards i do not really fancy having kids anymore. it is quite insensitive on my part to bring children into this world and while i (hopefully) die after falling into a coma, they would watch as the world they know is being burnt alive.

it is such a negative thought. david said so. but we handle facts as they’re given to us, and often times, not necessarily with the right way. and ironically, sometimes, they turned out to be fine.

i know it wasn’t about global warming. i know it wasn’t about me suddenly not wanting to have kids. i know it wasn’t about the fear that my archipelago wouldn’t be as half as beautiful as it is now in the next few months or so.

but david did fly out of London and landed straight into my arms four days ago.

and the world just became so much more beautiful from then on.


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