360 degrees in Catbalogan

I look straight ahead and see my father's shorts hang inside out on a clothes line, next to three towels and someone's white underpants.  Beyond that I see still black waters, and beyond that the balcony lights of a lonely house extended on the waters.  To my right I hear a dog bark, three barks a second at the decibel level of an angry car horn.  Behind me my mother and father are fast asleep behind closed doors.  And to my left is the comfort room whose exhaust fan I just switched off.  And up above me head, above the roof that shades me, are billions of dimly lit stars whose existence tell me that I am small and everything around me is small, compared to the expanse of God's creation.  It's also telling me it's late and I need to go to bed.