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Jonah Basanta Garca

Love locks, tokhang, and Rosario at Baclaran

He cradled his son with his right arm, while he wrapped his left fist around a sledgehammer. The grilles surrounding them were full of...

Monk in the City: Dada Shiveshananda

He sat in the middle of the temple with his legs crossed and eyes closed. The view was rather familiar, though I have not...

Noticing Makati from underneath the sky

My feet were nailed for a while to the ground after seeing what was happening before me: The half-human half-horse creature, a tikbalang, was...

Post-Valentine reflections on the streets of Manila at night

She broke her promise to be with me today, but still, I am in no position to complain. Yes, we might have spent the...

Meeting the Order of National Artists for film and the search for food

Aside from the raging buses and jeepneys on Taft Avenue, the sun gave no mercy to the sidewalk vendors and pedestrians who sometimes, if...

Grace: The heir of the last mambabatok

Grace literally discontinued her tattoo sessions yesterday. Though many customers, like us, were waiting. She needed to do something more important—rest and feed the...

Unhidden markers of Kilometer Zero

This was my daughter Janna’s idea; I never wanted to go to Rizal Park at midmorning, when the sun’s rays piercing the skin without...

Aiza

I saw it with my own eyes. The baby was sucking milk from her mother’s corpse. That extremely hot noon was terrifying and I...

A writer in search of an author

“Once it happened, as I lay awake at night, that I suddenly spoke in verses, in verses so beautiful and strange that I did...

KATAGA1: Dulce et Utile

It appears to be an endless debate whether art should be for art’s sake or for social transformation. Interestingly, “Kataga,” in their first book...