The Manila summer season is just barely reaching its boiling point. The sensation of warm sand granules between the toes, ice cold beer in your left hand and a half lit cigarette on the other, all under the hot crimson afternoon sun.
More excitement for the best part? None. It’s because I’ll be sitting this one out.
No bore me out at Bora this time.
Replacing the blue, seducing seas with damp, freezing, after-winter air.
Sinugba for grilled whoppers, margaritas for black coffee, migrating seals for blue seal, sun-burnt shoulders for cozy windbreakers.
In a manner of seeing it, it sucks.
All there is, is to sway that humble gaze, pack the backpacks full and look forward to the sakura trees grown on foreign soil.
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