Manila is hot - the kind of heat that steams out of the air, the walls, and people’s faces.
Walking beneath the old walls of Intramuros, Spanish colonial stone houses pass shoulder to shoulder with modern motorbikes. That misalignment of old and new is one of the city’s most ordinary scenes.
At dusk, I went to Manila Bay for the sunset. The coastline is broken up a little awkwardly by towers, but when the sun drops to the water, every building turns instantly into a silhouette. That is Manila’s quietest hour.