I say hello to a group of writers who remember me. They are clustered in the corner of the room, like a few last Cheerios in a bowl of milk. It's been a lifetime! one exclaims. How long are you here for? asks a second. I tell them a week. Only? says a third. What have you been up to all these years? asks a fourth. I tell them I'm writing a book. They raise their eyebrows and paste on smiles. What's it about? a fifth one inquires. I tell them, to throw them off: 'It's a novel about a young writer's death in a flood and how his teacher is moved to redeem the senseless loss by writing about the what-ifs.' Fascinating! a sixth one condescends. Where's it set? I reply: 'The Philippines.'