Naglalayag is a romance between Dorinda and Noah (Yul Servo), two people in search of an unnameable connection, and we warm to the way they find solace in each other. But the fleeting nature of this affair is its most golden element; it is romantic precisely because it can't last. In the end, Naglalayag is really a romance of the self, a celebration of the person you can become when someone else touches you deeply. We're all souvenirs of our own experiences, and what we take away from love affairs is sometimes of more value than what we gain when we try to wrest them into some ill-fitting frame of permanence. A kept memento is a sad thing, but a memory remains alive and supple forever. It's the flower you don't catch, the one you never crush by pressing it into a book. Dorinda's triumph in Naglalayag isn't a conquering of loneliness - some form of that will always be with her. Dorinda's victory is that she has said yes - not just to a younger man but to herself. Loneliness can't be cured, but it can change shape. What appealed to me in the idea of Naglalayag? Loneliness - a more common emotion than love, but we speak less about it. We are ashamed of it. We think perhaps that it shows a deficiency in ourselves. That if we were more attractive, more entertaining, and less ordinary, we would not be lonely.
Sound Engineers: Nestor Arvin Mutia, Angie Reyes
Editor: Jesus Navarro
Music: Gardy Labad
Production Designer: Randy Gamier
Director of Photography: Odyssey 'Odie' Flores
Screenplay: Irma Dimaranan
Directed By: Maryo J. delos Reyes
