Leila on my mind
It’s not easy to forget that Sen. Leila de Lima is in jail, where she does not belong, any more than you or I. She is often in my thoughts, because I’m bothered.
It’s not easy to forget that Sen. Leila de Lima is in jail, where she does not belong, any more than you or I. She is often in my thoughts, because I’m bothered.
More than stunned, I felt betrayed—not unlike a wife whose husband had just confessed to another love—when, at our first lunch after a long time, two old and dearest friends revealed they had voted for Duterte. I had hoped they were joking; they were dead serious.
I woke up with a dull headache, even after having taken a Decolgen Forte at bedtime to abort a cold. I didn’t feel fit for Black Friday, the day of protest at Luneta. I had gone to bed before 11 o’clock, hoping to conk out before midnight, but it was past 1 when I finally fell asleep. I awoke feeling a sense of malaise bordering on the flu.
It became national entertainment—the cheap kind—where men and women did not find anything reprehensible about mocking a woman.
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