The last place we had to visit was a historic church.
Built during the Spanish occupation, the shrine didn’t only serve as a place for the Roman Catholics, but it also became a refuge for the Filipino revolutionaries during the war. Three hundred years later, the edifice had already withstood numerous fires and earthquakes and it remained as one of the oldest churches in the country.
My classmates who had cameras with them flocked at the front, aiming to capture the whole façade of the building. I stopped as well to gaze at the washed-out bricks, crumbling sculptures, and the seemingly abandoned bell tower and I remember myself thinking it was too spooky to be a holy place.
