Six years have spun like sunlight through the leaves,
A Northern Quezon tapestry my heart weaves.
From city clamor to a gentler sway,
A different rhythm marked each passing day.
I first arrived, a stranger at the gate,
Where emerald hills on azure skies would wait.
The air, so clean, a balm upon my soul,
A story whispered making me feel whole.
I...
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