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September 10, 2015
My mother smelled of Heno de Pravia. She washed her blouses using this same soap. This memory came to me on an overpass, and it made me miss our old house, built on this very same lot we're on. We lived in a spacious, old, and sturdy space on the second floor of my grandaunt's house. It used to mildly smell of cat piss. We had a large window in the main bedroom (which could fit three beds) looking over the first floor's roof. Kuya and I would throw crayons when the sun's out and watch them melt. Good times.