
My father is coming up with a book about Escalante Massacre. I am sure it's going to shed light on so many things. I am my father's editor and going through his narrative isn't easy. It's painful in every way. It makes me go back to those darker days when everything was a painful blur. I didn't really understand everything but the one thing that was very clear was the fear that encompassed me, my siblings, our whole family for a long, long time I thought it wasn't going to end. Now, several decades after, I go through it again and it's all the more painful realizing how much suffering my own parents have gone through, especially my father. I hate Ferdinand Marcos. I loath Imelda and her pathetic collection of shoes that meant unimaginable hunger for so many Filipinos. I hate and loath and despise her children who seem not to understand anything about what their parents had done, in spite of their intelligence and a lot of sense. I guess greed doesn't have anything to do with intelligence or a lot of sense. Instead, greed makes people look extremely pathetic. Look at her smooching on the microbe-riddled glass. It speaks more meaning to my word "pathetic".
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