The first two things Gaudencio Rivera was made aware of--within hours of arriving by carabao-drawn cart at the secluded town of Tagbaoran on the island province of Palawan--were these: that the most beautiful woman in creation dwelt by the river, and that it was pointless to even dream of being loved by her.

One of the best ways to recharge is by simply being in the presence of art. No thoughts, no critiques. Just full-on absorption mode.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I wonder where everything has gone. Even the things I used to remember with so much clarity now seem dimmer. What happens to memory when it vanishes? What happens to events when everyone who remembers them ceases to remember?