Pages ripped from the journal of
Angelica Nazario de los Santos
Undated
Am I going mad? I hope that what happened today was simply a result of spending so many days here alone. I hungered for connection; I wanted to
see healthy people, happy people. And so I decided to poke around town to see how life in Tayabas had changed.
I made myself presentable. I washed my face and brushed out my hair. Why have I kept it long all these years? Vanity, I suppose. I looked pretty enough without makeup, I thought, and so I
just clipped my hair back loosely with a flowered clip from Mama’s dressing table. I chose my best underthings—peach-colored silk pettipants and brassiere, a matching camisole. I pulled
on my skirt of purple velvet, perhaps too dressy for the provincial town, but it pleased me.
