A long time ago, in my other life, I was an Empress. It was the time when people were getting hungry. As an Empress, I pitied them and stole some money from the Emperor and gave them to the poor and the needy. I did this secretly, of course. In the middle of the night, with just some trusted knights, we wandered the streets and distributed some food and money to the people.
When my son was born, I was 32. He came too early, premature at only 33 weeks of my pregnancy. I had a caesarean operation and the surgeon was telling me what they were doing as they operated on me. It wasn’t painful, I felt it when they pulled him out, I heard his cry and they showed him to me. Since he was a premature baby, they had to put him in an incubator. I fell asleep afterwards.
My mother is my favourite subject, as I blog about her most of the time. She’s beautiful, a classic beauty one can say, a real Filipina, with her long black wavy hair, which she always brush with a natural bristle brush. She goes out with corduroy trousers, silk blouse or fine dresses with intricate prints, like batik. She’s always smartly dressed. She’s in dire need of being complimented, i.e. we always compliment her looks.
She used to work as a Probation Officer, so no one can screw or mess around with her. She’s a tough cookie! She knows that several factors impinge on civil liberties and strike at the basic tenants of judicial system. She also doesn’t bombinate in a vacuum of data, caught between inevitability and uniqueness. That’s one of the valuable lessons she has given us, to be lawful and be aware of our human rights.