Manila, with its unreasonable enthusiasm for organized chaos, never ceases to amaze and appall me all at once. I’ve lived here for more than half my life and it somehow manages to continue moving towards disorganization. A quick downpour can transform the city into a murky, infectious waterpark. The most wonderful time of the year can turn the streets into a nightmare of stationary headlights and raucous honking. One can rely on the unreliability of public transport, both in system and technicalities.

Yet I continue to wonder why, despite the ugliness and seeming hopelessness of it all, I still unwillingly – curiously – miss it when I am away. Ah, the mystery.


Unconditional love


An apt reminder. Sometimes we fool ourselves into thinking that if it truly is love, it is supposed to be easy. It’s not. It takes a tremendous amount of work, and while nobody is ever prepared for it, we take it on anyway and stumble and get back up and stumble over and over again. And that’s okay because love is all the good bits and the bad bits, the little heartbreaks and little triumphs in between that remind us that yes, we are human, but we are capable of loving and being loved in all our messy and glorious ways.