Explore more Articles in
Essay
Streets of Quiapo
I have a clear memory of Quiapo in the mid-60s. Quiapo Church was were aunts and other relatives lighted votive candles and recited novenas before hearing regular Friday and Sunday masses.
As a working student for a couple of years at the technical school...
Viva Señor Jesus Nazareno!
January 9, a non-working holiday in Manila, is the feast day of the Black Nazarene. And this year, 2023, will be the third time that the much-awaited celebration will not include the Traslación—the yearly procession of the life-sized statue of Christ carrying a...
Someday I Will Come to Love My Name
A definition of my name was blurted out as a bombshell from the mouth of my elementary school classmate.
Out of frustration, she accused me of war-mongering, shouting that my name indeed meant what I liked best, a “little war.” As I searched, not...
Goodbye, my dear friend
You know I struggled to call you a dear friend. You had been once to me, but that was long ago. I don’t even want to remember. But I heard you died, so take this as my peace offering.
That was last night when...
Life & death in the arts
In the last two years of the pandemic, we lost seasoned actors, great musicians, passionate poets from the mountains and in the city, colleagues from the media, painters, journalists and activists, singers young and old, and folk artists of various persuasions.
Grief is infinitely...
Mothers and son
Weekend was an escape from the compactness in the city to relish the freshness of the rustic surroundings of my hometown in Pulilan, Bulacan. This weekend retreat was stepping into a totally different space—rural, natural and simple. Home was where I find vibrant...
