I found myself on an trepidatious fast bus ride going back to Dumaguete. And every time the bus driver hits the accelerator , I step on imaginary brakes in front of me. I’m not sure if the driver noticed it but his face is like a yahoo smiley that grins every time my body language is looking for the imaginary brakes.
Just like the old times, when in fear, I think of happy thoughts. While I still can’t get over with the rustic beauty of the sandbar, the scenic view of Negros Oriental going back to Dumaguete is fantastic. I’m not sure if it’s just me but the air smells like a boiling brown sugar. Kinda addictive. Perhaps, I was just craving for Sans Rival I thought.