One of those days when I was in Pandami’, Sulu where my ancestors had once lived, a wonderful inspiration came to me through two of the most unusual ways: by a small stone and a little lad. I was walking through the thick bushes that afternoon, in one of my great grandfather’s well treasured land. I was hoping to find peace in listening to birds chirping up high on the trees, or with the wind that is softly touching my face, and even by pondering at the great wonder and mystery those gigantic trees have to offer (all of these are wonderful blessings from Allah, Alhamdulillah). Along the way, I spotted a little boy not far from where I was. He was wearing a red bandana in his head, covering his short, black curly hairs. His thin body was plastered by his white shirt that had grown old and had turned to another color which I cannot name. A small taguban (a sheath) made of short bamboo, with its side having sliced open for the utak (a small kind of blade used
