March 21, 1942

Tanco and I toured Bulacan: Marilao, Bigaa, Guiguinto, Malolos, Plaridel and Baliuag.

It is five days since I have written here. I think I’ll stop writing. What do I get by crabbing about my feelings? And supposing the Japanese get a hold of this diary? Oh well, I’m not worried. If they ask me to speak out sincerely, I’ll tell them what I feel. Frankness is better than flattery. I think I’ll continue writing whenever there is time.

Of course, the truth hurts.


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