We walked along a soft road, rice was being grown and harvested, and at the end of the clump of bamboo trees, we arrived at a lovely place. There was a bench under a Kamatsile tree where we can watch farmers, carabaos, white herons and spend some quiet moments of reflection. The wind drowns out our sorrows even if just for a while. I can't wait to come back here next week, in sha Allah, either bring a book, have something to sew, or have a picnic. It's summer already, it's in the air.
