The smell of night dew overwhelms the mountaintop. A cozy atmosphere encompasses the pasture. Fiery torches have been lighted on the edges of the hilltop and surrounding the presidential tent.
Some snoring can be heard from afar. The awardees are yawning. Lim Tow rocks on the ground while being cross-legged. He takes a peak at Seth Gloria who counts the number of stars above. Lim Tow might fall backward and head into a deep sleep at any moment.
A snap amidst the sudden silence of the table filled with empty plates. Once all the tableware disappeared from the vast grassy area, red lights that only I could see slowly flew around it and vanished into thin air.
The president bends forward and unwillingly sulks. Transportation takes a toll on him.
“Everything cool?" asks the artist s
