* Bikbik and Roro *

I was greatly saddened this morning to hear the sound of chainsaws outside my home. At first I'd thought it was just some pruning of the trees by the road, but looking out my windows, I saw that it was in fact the beginnings of the complete destruction of the last parcels of forest that once carpeted this entire estate.

These trees have been here since I was a child; they used to grow so thickly together that you could barely make out what was beyond the first few rows. The whole place would be alive with the sounds of birds and frogs and crickets and numerous other animals scurrying secretly within the foliage. Everywhere it was a deep, deep green, and the air would be so cool and smell so clean.

And now, the incalculable greed of developers and investors has bulldozed its cruel way in. I had in fact written to a certain minister with regard to this, not once, but thrice; almost needless to say, I did not even receive a token letter of acknowledgment.

For those of you who are so blessed to live surrounded by nature in all its life and splendour and beauty -- relish and delight yourselves in it, be daily thankful for it, do all you can to preserve it.

I'd taken these photos when it first became obvious that even this last patch of forest had been condemned. I felt we simply had to have some record of what it looked like. I didn't want my kids to forget.

This picture kinda captures what it's all about.

When I was a child, there used to be a tiny village in the midst of all this jungle; the people had little thatch-roofed homes, and raised their own chickens. I used, in fact, to play with a boy who lived there, a little ragamuffin who never spoke. They all disappeared when the land was taken for the construction of block after block of apartments.

Ro is still too young to fully grasp that what we'd just walked through would all be gone. As it turned out, it was in fact our last walk through there; the very next day, they started boarding it up.

Goodbye.