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 thought I heard it wrong, but there was no one else there, trying to get past the makeshift barricade at the foot of the Edsa People Power Monument, just behind one side of the stage at last Wednesday’s rally.
A multimillion-dollar trove of seized Impressionist art believed to have been owned by the regime of Philippine dictator Ferdinand Marcos has sat for five years in a climate-controlled Brooklyn warehouse, the subject of a bitter legal fight.
News headlines spoil my day. They make my coffee bitter. Hard as I try to not have them ruin my disposition, it is truly difficult to keep my emotions in check.