Worked half an hour on seventh glaze.

Afternoon rain in Cubao.

When it rains I have to stop painting and welcome the rain at our side porch, and hold its hand, and listen to the sad stories it tells me of life in the city. The rain is an old and loyal and consistent friend.

A mug of barley tea while a tea candle is lit inside a soapstone, Indian holder and an incandescent lamp is lighted above our foyer.

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