Sat outside at the security guards' second station, under the dark canopies of the trees. Jay and I lit cigarettes, careful to remain hidden behind the main gate panels.

I remember all of the Ambassadors' receptions I had to attend in the Embassy ballroom, before I retired. I would sneak out in the middle of them all and sit inside the dark Octagon, looking across Manila Bay at the Cultural Center and Star City's ferris wheel in the distance. Being alone and sitting in the dark was a great relief. I was already a hermit then. I couldn't stand parties and party-goers for long periods of time.