In the heart of Manila's neon underbelly, a young group of hustlers make a home for themselves around a seedy bus stop, turning tricks to make ends meet. One night when a member of the gang tragically dies from a drug overdose, the remaining four band together to honor their friend's last wish: to return his body to the rural village he came from. Runaway Zion, a novice with a murky past, insists on tagging along, even against the initial reluctance of street-smart leader Uno. But as the boys traverse the open roads of the Philippines, their bonds tighten and they find themselves on an unforgettable journey.

Capturing Manila with a cinematic radiance, Petersen Vargas’s new film is not a simple exposé on the life of Filipino sex workers, though he never shies away from the gritty realities; Vargas's real emphasis is on the deep urge of belonging. Sometimes I Feel Like Walking is a beautiful rumination on the significance of chosen family in the queer community, and the lengths we sometimes have to go to to achieve it.