Each of us touched by Boracay has a special memory about this beach paradise. For non-divers, it could be the amazement of feeding fish while floating in the middle of the sea. It could be the fine white sand or various water (and air?) sports like the jet ski, banana boat ride and parasailing. It could even be as simple as the fresh seafood, the great fruit shakes or the sand castles with lighted candles inside.
It could also be the great evening parties, which could be really wild. Perhaps it’s the unspoken rule that what happens in Boracay, stays in Boracay or maybe it’s just that party animals who go there just want to party.
For others, including me, it could be the evening itself.
Anyone is naturally expected to be dead tired after a full day of enjoying the powder-white Boracay sand, maybe just like the mighty sun. However, as the orange-red sun bids farewell and slowly drops down the horizon, it hugs the edge of the island, fighting, just like in the poem, not to go softly into the night. Perhaps everybody wouldn’t mind the sun staying much longer, but perhaps everybody wouldn’t miss the sun if it goes into the night without a fight.