The boy on the swing had a determined look on his face

In a park near the cathedral, a young boy sat on a swing. His face still carried traces of childhood innocence, yet a small cross pendant dangled from his chest—a detail that felt unmistakably Filipino in a country where Christianity is the majority faith. The northern Luzon city of Vigan, with its preserved Spanish colonial streets, is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Horse-drawn carriages clattered along the cobblestones, tourists posed before colonial façades, and yet for the boy, such scenes were likely nothing more than the background of his everyday life.

The swing itself was nothing elaborate—just a weathered wooden plank suspended by chains. Unlike the playgrounds of larger cities, filled with slides and jungle gyms, its very simplicity lent it a kind of shabby charm. The boy swung with all the force his small frame could muster, but his eyes seemed fixed on some distant point. He looked as though he were staring at something, and yet at nothing at all. His expression suggested not childish glee, but a hint of private thought. Of course, it may have been only my imagination; perhaps he was merely searching for the ice cream vendor.

Vigan on Google Map

Comment via

日本語