It was the first time in my life that I had seen fireflies on my ceiling. When you live in an overcrowded and extremely polluted city, you grow accustomed to reading about certain things in nature, yet never really seeing them. Save the ubiquitous stray cat, dog, sparrow, or cockroach, I would dare say that one could have lived in Manila not seeing any other type of animal for years. Except rats.
But I wasn’t in Manila, no. The serenade for the senses that was unravelling before my eyes was taking place in a small valley in the province of Kalinga. Fireflies were aglow on my bedroom ceiling while the constant rush of the river soothed my wandering mind better than crickets could have. Not that there weren’t any crickets - what must have been hundreds of the soprano-like maestros were singing in the darkness, perfectly complementing the midtones of the water to form a harmonious night lullaby, one that would rival the best nightingale from stories old.
