The local university, PSU Nasugbu, was a world away from the frantic energy of Manila's big schools. The campus was smaller, greener, the pace slower.
My Fine Arts 101 class was held in a airy studio that smelled of turpentine and clay. As the professor talked about line and form, my mind kept drifting to the precise, graceful strokes in Luna's sketchbook.
I wasn't here to escape my past; I was here to understand it on a deeper level. For the first time since the investigation, I felt a flicker of genuine excitement for what was ahead.