From the rearview mirror, Baguio was overtaken by mountains that rose as we descended into the lowland heat, the sky warmed even more by a brilliant pink sunset reflected in the waters of the rice fields. In the smaller barangays road work held up traffic for the benefit of the snack vendors that walked up and down the lines of filled buses, tricycles, jeeps and cars. From the bus window at night, the lines of flower stalls that run along the highway are each lit by a single candle, and filled with families reunited for the All Souls Day holiday. The powerlines that run above us go unused during a time of year when spending time with the dead is preferred, lit by gentle yellow flames that replace the white glare of LEDs. Shadows circate the bus interior with every passing car. Still shooting in this dimness for whatever glimmers of this time might come across, trying not to think of the Baguio friends we’ll miss. Then a flight to Davao tomorrow…