Six years ago today, I was reminded of the story of our experience with a stranger. It was a night full of anxiety and about values that truly matter. One night, my sister lost her phone and she was freaking out badly. She kept tracing back to where she might have left the phone. It could either be at karenderya or in the jeepney she rode going home. Persistently, she kept calling her phone number, hoping someone would finally answer. After many attempts, no one answered. It just kept on ringing. Both of us were just sitting there, eating chichiria, while she entertained herself scrolling through my phone, hoping for the loss not to sink in. She was not just sad about the value of the phone itself – because it wasn’t expensive at all – but about its content: the memories saved, the contacts, documents, music, and more. It was also about the time she had spent taking care of it for about two years. Once again, she dialed her phone number. And I was like "Stop it alr...
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