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do you think her light is borrowed—something siphoned from the sun before dusk swallows the walls? (look closer. stay longer. watch carefully.) She is no candle trembling at the mercy of wind; She is brightness after it has already burned,…
Morning smoke billows through cracks of broken windows, and the air tastes of iron—like rusty old coins on the tongue. Even the wind tires of threading through the same narrow streets, brushing past faces that have forgotten the taste of…
Walang buwan. Ang gabi’y tila telang itim na nakayakap sa lungsod—walang sinag, walang buhay. Ngunit buhay ang dilim, humihinga sa bawat kalye, gusali, at bintana. Sa pusod nito, may mga nagbabantay: mga mata ng nakaraan, handang humatol. Ang hangin ay…