Boracay, a green and white gem in the middle of a blue sea, blessed with a panorama of clouds and a ongoing theater of sky and water on and impossibly large canvas, is not easy to travel to. Almost like giving birth, painful as difficult, but still you would do it again and being there makes the journey all worth it.
It’s a funny thing, time. I remember as a child not minding time at all; being and living in the moment; existing in a plane where time had no say in my business. Then slowly things begin to change. Time would no longer allow itself to be ignored. It wants to assert its managerial role in the affairs of my human existence. Freedom is replaced by deadlines, strict appointments and duties to be fulfilled on ‘time’. But little does time know that I remember what it was like to be free, and that I can escape to that place where I kept my childhood alive and well. Don’t tell time…
Boracay is a place you leave and always dream of going back to, to its ocean, to its skies, to its lively skies and mostly to its warm people and the girl with the yellow balloon. This ends this month’s journey into the litte paradise island of the Philippines. On to the next!
With all the changing and shifting weights of our lives, how do we retain our balance? If balance is a very thin line that we need to walk on, then how do we guarantee our stability when life tries to push us left and right?
It was dusk, that magical time when day surrenders itself to the mysteries of the night in a golden embrace, a storm was approaching, the wind was starting to gain speed, people were shuffling about to get to the shelter, but the boy and his guitar were completely lost inside a piece music that had to happen. I walked past him but he did not see me, I photographed him and he was completely unaware. He was floating inside of his art.