On our trip, we stopped by the T'boli Museum. I have to say, I was completely captured by the museum's caretaker. She was dressed casually but there was a certain mysterious, tribal vibe to her. She moved silently, her feet treading carefully on the bamboo floor. The floor that creaked and groaned under our steps stayed quiet under hers.
She wore no jewelry on her body except for her ears. They were adorned with gold hoops, beads and hanging chains. And on the very first, her piercing was a mirror. Surrounded by a gold hoop. Surrounded by a circle of beads.
Each fold of skin. Each worn crinkle told a story. A tale I would never know. A mystery she would keep until the day her beautiful brown skin would fold with the brown ground she walked on. But this woman will not fade. Her imprint will shine with the rays of sun she has walked under her entire existence.
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