
In a country where survival is a full-time job, anger feels like a privilege. The food court lady selling lumpia, the Grab rider drenched in rain, the call centre worker inhaling exhaust on her way to work before her hair is dry — they don’t stop caring; they’re just exhausted.
Anger, to endure, needs rest, and rest is something the poor are denied.
That’s the cruelty of corruption: it doesn’t just steal money, it steals the strength to fight back. It drains a people until resignation feels like realism. Yet even in fatigue, survival remains a quiet form of resistance. /Grace Alvarez
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