WHEN we were kids, little toughies in the neighborhood, flowers symbolized everything boys were not. Flowers were a girl thing. We didn’t want to be seen near anything that resembled a petal or smelled sweet.

Once, my friends followed me to the backyard, worried if I was out to gather gumamelas, only to find out, to their relief, that I was sniffing lomboy leaves to check if they were dried enough for smoking. Flowers separated us from the girls and we were careful not disturb this delicate balance of nature.

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