One hot summer day, after an hour boat ride, we reached the island.
The ruins, echoes the richness of the battle that happened May 1942. Scattered on the island are different tombstones, memorials, busts and markers of the sad past. The souls of soldiers whose lives were given in a war which I believe no one won. No Filipino, Japanese or American won in that war.
The tunnel, dark and eerie. The last fortress where no one survived.
The lighthouse, old but standing brave. Reminiscent of what has been a true guide to anyone lost.
The fire trees, beautifully became our back drop. They are too beautiful to be ignored.
The island – old, sad, ruined and yet so beautiful.