Trippin' while I'm aroadin' 1

Found myself in a surplus shop in downtown CDO that yup, had everything including the kitchen sink (I was scouting for a cheap dive suit. "In CDO?" you ask incredulously. Never mind). Spotted a copy of "Postcards from the Edge" begging to be liberated from there at Php20.

And over dinner, between figuring out what time to hit the road again (have you ever stopped to wonder what if the road hits you back?) and rationalizing that pine guava juice has enough roughage in them to counteract the effects of spare ribs, these lines leapt out at me: "Most of the people in here share the desire to seem cool. They can be aching from heroin withdrawal, but ask how they are and they'll say 'Pretty good, man. Hangin' in there.' The answer comes too quickly, and hovering over a grin, a look of desperate loneliness gazes over the abyss. The only thing worse than being hurt is everyone knowing that you're hurt."

Earlier, taking in the sights, smells and sounds of people at the public market, my brain kept repeating "at what point did you cease to care?"

How do you answer a question you don't yet understand?