DAILY PHOTO: Bridge to Thống Nhất Isle
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What’s the oldest thing you’re wearing today?
A pair of flip-flops I got in Tagbilaran, Philippines almost ten years ago when an airline lost our luggage and we had to replace our travel wardrobe from the slim pickings of a local store. (It was actually a well-stocked store, but Filipinos tend to be smaller — but when they aren’t, they’re apparently much bigger. So, sizing mostly went: XS, S, M, XXXL, XXXXL. And I needed an L in Filipino sizes. Actually, the bigger stock probably just doesn’t turn over. Maybe the lack of L’s suggested it was a popular size.)
Not bad for a cheap purchase meant only to hold up through a crisis.

Trapped on the island by typhoon. It's evening dark, though at high noon. The waves are wild and still rising. So, ferries won't be running soon. The few streets there are lie silent, but - seaside - the winds whip violent. We hide inside a bungalow, and hope it's fixed firmer than my tent. One 's always where it's most remote when they cancel all ferryboats: where there're too many thoughts to think, and few distractive antidotes.
The island's rocky columns rise upward. Its gray and green was tiny, but now looms. A giant jutting rock that stands on high, and shades the white sand beach and coral sea. This island will be home from now 'til doom. One's gratitude for fists of sand first swells, but it will crash in time with tedium. Could a sea death beat solitary life? One lives and dies by coconut water -- day after day - week after week, and dreams of company and comfort food, while knowing this is hell and paradise. What prison is this island - place unknown - that like Schrödinger's box shrouds life & death?