CITY OF PINES

The cool mountain air, and the sudden scent of pine that whips at your nose when you roll the windows down as the vehicle passes through the twists and turns on the road-- these are the things I miss the most about Baguio. You're in the woods with the grass and the earth beneath your your feet, you look up, and you see the sunlight filtering in through the trees stitched with the patches of blue from the sky, and you start to realize that what's meant to be will be no matter how you try and change it. I don't know, I guess maybe that's just me. I've sort of always had an attachment to that place-- you can feel the presence of tranquility even in the midst of the bustling crowds; it's the feeling of being on top of a mountain, being above the greater chaos. Those photos above were taken from a couple of weeks back, and just eleven hours ago one year went up in flames, and another was born from the ashes. It is incredibly surprising sometimes how fast time can be. Maybe one day, without really noticing it, the lives we live at this very moment will become nostalgic to us.