Took a taxi from the Shopwise queue coming home. The driver was only too glad I lived on P. Tuazon Boulevard, since he was about to return his vehicle to the operator's garage on Cristobal Street. When I gave him my address he said he used to know a person on our compound, someone who went to school with a friend, but that that person died. I asked him how old he was, 48, and I wondered if the person he knew was my elder son, Nelson. It was.

It's not a small world. It's a tiny one.