Somewhere deep among our pile of family albums, there’s a photo of six-year-old me sitting as straight as a six-year-old can on a little wooden chair.
It was one of those dress-up-as-your-future-job day photo-ops. I’m in a barong and black slacks. On my lap is a law book held upright by my right hand. The book is as tall as my torso.
I didn’t smile in front of cameras as a kid. I was too shy to show my teeth, so I bit my lower lip. The photo is a funny reminder of that. I’m looking straight at the camera, signature lip-bite, stoic and stiff.
I remember the feeling of having been placed in this position. But then again, I was six years old. At that point, wherever I was, chances are, I was placed there.