CategoryIvan Khenard A. Acero



The year was 1999, February had just begun, and the tide swelled oddly in Babag after a night of heavy rain. Frequently, there is a slow, unobtrusive silence in the way the water rises to shroud the unevenness of the marsh. The rocky streets, the takâ and kayagang mounds, and the tangkong patches hide under the stillness. All sorts of brackish water fish and mudcrabs glide along footpaths and the...