Tumbang Preso

No Germelina, I don’t miss Davao. Not even the durian and the Chinese pomelos. Or the mushrooms and lettuces and the taxis and the teeming i...

Ardi, my country is a village A village with no country Thus wrote Linda Bansil in her poem for a friend who appears to be dying ...

D’s friend O wanted for me to see his psycho-therapist and join  self-transformation seminars. I walked out on my job raising monies for f...

I never thought Islam would sit well with Putin. But it happened to me in Jolo.  When we were still looking around, a madrasah teacher ...

If I were to write about my life, it will be without praise. Without rancor. And without hope.

People will not always walk up to you to tell you what they see; but there are those who see and they’re the ones who matter.   Not this ar...

Oh social therapy oh funding agency I actually like it if people think that those who have stuck to their guns are nuts. That means one o...