Or maybe it was six hours. Or maybe days. Anyway, time was not much of a concern. It really didn't matter, as long as we were together, I was happy. And was a bit sad.
1st minute
The ghosts of forgotten memories seem to flood our minds and the only thing we could fight back is to jump all over the campus.
2nd minute
A night-time “walkathon” is always enjoyable when mouths are much stronger than the muscles in our legs. Hiking from one place to another is not that challenging enough.
3rd minute
Respect for the beauty of musical notes has been wiped out from the community's mentality. It is art, though, to hear the latest version of a song's broken harmony and lyricism.
4th minute
Revelations just keep on coming in. No one can stop it. The power of gossips and behind-the-back discussions is so potent that one would eventually fall on his knees due to the sudden comprehension of supposedly incomprehensible tall-tales.
5th minute
Someone is sick. Fortunately, there are people who tries to patch things up. And the results are good. Maybe even better. But, still, it is not enough. There is a kind of doubt whether what was previously done should not have been done in the first place. Now, everyone's getting sick.
6th minute
I am going back to Bohol later this afternoon. I must be happy, celebrating my mum's birthday on the 25th (yes, Christmas Day) and meeting some of my brothers ands sisters finally, but the thought of leaving momentarily the ghost town, which is Dumaguete right now, is like a heavy decision for me. I must leave some things for a while. I know; it should happen that way.
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