
But my mind and my fingers can only process a few. The stories are just too many; I can’t cope up. Yet, they are all worthy to be written and to be read.


I am having sleepless nights just pondering the things I wanted to write. I am having a headache.


But I will treasure them all – every kid and mother I shook hands with, every father and grandfather I met, every Ate and Kuya I mingled with.


I hope to write something about them all someday. But now, I have to rest.
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