At dusk, after the rain, crickets break into song with the night birds. The watchman swings the gate shut. Behind you, the honks of jeepneys, the crowds and lights—all fades into the background, stays there. This is Manila. The city has a thousand faces, and this one is ours to show you.
The breeze blows free in the clearing. Lanterns dangle from branches, and a sculpture of a frog perches on a mossy fountain. The scent of brewing coffee wafts from a house built before the war, and you can come in anytime you like.