The earthquake in Thailand suddenly reminded me of those turbulent years in the Philippines.

Once Manila, when the volcano erupted, the volcanic ash fell like snow, covering the entire city in gray; when the earthquake struck, the buildings shook as if the sky was falling, standing inside one could only feel "I might not survive today"; later, the lockdown during the pandemic meant waiting day after day, thinking we had finally endured the hardest times.

But reality always turns on its head.

What came was not the dawn, but a full-scale crackdown on the Pogo industry. The entire industry was uprooted, and we were forced to move to Thailand with our team.

Thinking that changing locations would give us a breather, the days were still tense:

Fear of inspections, fear of arrests, fear of sudden raids, afraid of being put on a flight back home without warning, becoming a number in the news labeled "deported."

Sometimes I miss the era under old Duterte—brutal but protective of a lifeline; I also miss that time in the Philippines, turbulent but where we could still make a living, still had choices.

That era has ended, and we were forced to say goodbye to it.