I've never had so much stories i'd like to write about, today, i'm teeming with tales that i'd somehow like to forget but learn from.
The weekend started off fine, Friday night coffee at my pad with my brother and sister whilst planning for a family Sunday about paying a visit to our grandmother for her birthday. Over at the east side, our brother and sister are having a beer. All is right in the world.
Saturday found me happy drinking decaf latte overlooking the gorgeous yachts docked under a gray sky morning. Not long after, i was on a boat to Corregidor Island for a much needed departure from the city, breathing fresh air and adoring the vegetation of the war stricken island.
What a pleasant day to be out of town, checking the sights on a cloudy but not rainy Saturday cannot get any better than this. I brushed up on Philippine history as i continue to savor the view of the harbor, monkeys swinging on trees and the feel of gusts of cold air on my face.
I've always had a strong liking for rustic edifices, of walls that tell a million stories that even from a distance and by a mere glance, i can almost hear the life that once was there. It's almost like torn buildings have souls that linger on.
My brother is a fan of model planes and battleships, we used to spend time talking about World War II and guns and ammunition that stomped fleets into dust. I remember sitting on a huge gun in Battery Way thinking how he'd love to be there and see those mean machines, little did i know, he's battling a war and it was about to consume him.
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