to be published as lost and found column #14 (?) on January 29, 2005 in Sun.Star Weekend Cebu. As a kid who liked being alone, I used to hang out in front of the mirror a lot. When I was about 10 or 11, my mother hung a full-length mirror in front of the stairs, and that was where I would sit on slow afternoons, staring at my reflection for what seemed like hours. It wasn’t that I liked looking at myself. Rather, it was a time of figuring-out, of trying to reconcile the face I saw with the person I knew inside. Most of the time I’d leave with a sense of disquiet, unable to find anything familiar or friendly in my outward self. Which might explain why people generally find me icy and unapproachable at first meeting--even I seem aloof to myself. The past year I’ve turned to taking photos of my reflection in the mirror, still trying to get a glimpse of the person I see inside me, on the outside. Call it vanity, but I now have a whole collection of these to remember my old selves by. The...