I pass through these gates, but as a visitor now. I half-expect the guard to give me a little nod of recognition, a knowing smile, as if to say,

"I figured you'd be back."

Why am I here? To walk where a younger, less cynical version of myself once walked? To visit a few teachers who somehow, over the years, became my friends? I don't really know. Perhaps it's something as simple and childlike as a yearning to see the old table where our group used to sit, or the classrooms we horsed around in, or even a bit of hastily-scrawled graffiti that still manages to bring me a memory and a slight smile. Or perhaps it's something as complex as an inner farewell, a break with the past.

I don't know. I'll stroll around a bit, see what's changed and what hasn't, maybe talk to somebody, or just sit quietly and think. And remember.

- Luis Katigbak, 1991