The moon was starting to reach its zenith, when Guelio was walking, intoxicated and melancholic, back to Punto Donostia. He hitched a ride with calesa rider who was on the Calle Azcarraga. Mang Alfredo, a blonde headed criollo, was a meat merchandiser, who was going home from the Mercado de Quinta. 

They had small talk about life near the mountains, the unavoidable discussion about the Spanish colonial government, and alcohol, considering Guelio consumed a pint of beer and shots of whiskey before tumbling out of Intramuros. He had to hop off, since Macati was farther to the east, so he was dropped off a few meters outside the town center, near the river. They each bade farewells, before Guelio headed to the faint light in the horizon that was his hometown.

His thoughts were hazy, considering he had drank for more than was necessary that night. It didn't stop him, however, from being the philosophical ne'er-do-well he was. The winds were blowing, which brought a cool breeze to a hot and humid summer night. The tall talahib plants were swaying in the night, and Guelio was in awe of how graceful its dance was. He sat on the dirt road, and just stared at the plants. Then he started talking to himself, smiling. It made him look like a creep, and surely a Guardia Civil would've arrested him at the spot, but Guelio didn't mind. Guelio was drunk.

"Have you ever noticed, Guelio, how beautiful this plant is? Talahib. Saccharum spontaneum. I mean, the when you touch it, it wants to murder you with tiny little pricks, like roses. You need to deal with it like burdock, it gets stuck on your shirt and pants, and causes you to bleed. Yet, when you look from the sky, it's like a.. bed of snow. It's beautiful nonetheless. So calming, so.. beautiful."

"Ah, what am I saying, I'm drunk as fuck. I'm talking to myself. Let's walk home already."

As Guelio reached the dragoon statue, he decided to sit again, on the base, in front of the inscription, seated facing the town hall. His head was aching and his vision was spinning, as if he had vertigo. This was the first time that he was intoxicated badly. Regardless of the revelations and epiphanies he might have, his thinking is impaired and his emotions were very conflicted at the moment. Not only was it from the alcohol though, but also because he was reminded of a dark scar in his past.

However, he wasn't going to be distracted by it. He already reflected upon it before, and now isn't the time for that. He stood and turned to his right, seeing the brick edifice in the proximity, where his friends were probably already enjoying dinner.

Farther away, across the river, was a hill, and what seemed to be a rundown shack. Guelio, due to his myopia, couldn't see much, considering it was night and there were not many lights in Punto Donostia. Nonetheless, it evoked a memory, a long repressed memory.

Guelio started running, almost running away from his memories, but he couldn't outpace them. They were too strong. He was transported back to a decade before. Rodrigo swimming in the river, Renee and Jazmin foraging for tea leaves and a pair of siblings trying to catch a bird. A tableau of his childhood, which would've been perfect, if it suddenly didn't turn into a dark and rainy night.

He could hear agonizing screams, cries for help, as the thunder roared, echoing the crack of a pistol The trees seemed to wail too, as he saw horrendous things, no child should see. Then, he saw her. Her face, covered in mud and tears. Her face, which came to haunt him for years. Her arms trying to reach out to her loved one, who was taken from her.

Guelio collapsed, kneeling on the dirt, crying and palpitating. You could hear his cries as he softly whispered a name. A name he dared not to utter, until now.

In the mess of all of it, he harkened back to the talahib, dangerous, yet beautiful. They both were like that plant. He chuckled as he said the word plant, remembering its Japanese translation:
植物, Shokobutsu. He was quiet now, tears on his face still, but quiet.

"I'm drunk, intoxicated, inebriated. I need help."

He looked at his right, seeing the narra door of the cantina, the smell of tinola wafting to the street from inside.

"I think I just found it."