...one must love people to love Manila...home is not a place but a wish...there are no returns there are only returns...today I fell in with the ocean again...now I'm nowhere and I'm happy...perhaps people were happier before names...like all cities Manila is imaginary...it was death that gave things names...all the toilets I have shat in...how does the journey's flavors taste outside one's mother tongue?...I always thought writing was part of my digestive system now I wonder if it's actually part of my excretory system...certain objects of memory grow as the distance from them increases as if swelling to fill the space vacated by the vanishing volumes involutions of the past...mosquitoes feed at 10 AM 4 PM...amateur nomad traveling accident...every is falling through time...sometimes the eye escapes desire...the body becomes saltier near the equator...everybody can feel it the empire of clocks is winding down...we only know because the body lets us...you've always needed waiting more than whatever you’re waiting for...homo mobilis homo amnesius...until there was language there was nothing to say nobody to say it...the sun is the mother of repetition the furtherer of difference...here imperturbable now...clarity the opposite of certainty...stir-fried crickets this is this is not eaten here...what to eat? what to eat?...traveling to stop see...there is no closing parenthesis...