Samantha Herbo - Falch

They said a proper description must not be superlative. Sometimes, though, the person being described makes that imperative impossible. Such people make description problematic, because you either end up with half-baked statements that fall short from reality, or with hyperbolic, exaggerated claims that seemed better at home in works of fiction. But hey, certain truths are often stranger than fiction.

So, to describe this girl here, Sam, one would have to tread dangerous waters. One would have to balance perfectly, or else she’ll either appear like the devil’s eldest bratty heiress, or the next best thing that has ever happened to man after Eve and Helen of Troy. This is because to achieve a true picture of this girl’s personality, you must mix equal parts of the perfect and the profane.

On the one hand, most people who know this claim her to be a quintessential morena-beauty Filipina lady, and perhaps a bit more: an epitome of social grace, polite in conversation, jovial to peers, modest at the right places. She does not seem to be aware that she carries herself with unconscious grace. Maybe she also uses that to her advantage. We never know. But maybe she wears those short white skirts for a reason.

Yet if I were perhaps to personify her inner personality (I won’t presume it is the deepest, but perhaps one of the deeper ones) she would be a black guy, a worldly-wise, street-smart alley-cat personality who is quite inured to the vulgar and the offensive (to weaker souls that is). She could talk with the gutsy swag of a nigger’s thuggish cockney, with all profanities uncensored. And yes, she likes girls as well.

But no, she’s not an evil soul. She’s one of the most spiritual persons I’ve met. She’s a really good friend too, one that would stick with you as long as you need a friend, and most importantly, one who could give you a hard slap on the face to wake you up if that is what you need. She is the sort of person you’d never regret getting to know.