For the Boys Only By Emmanuelle Let us stop and pause a while. From playing politics, I mean. Though exciting, it’s such a nasty game. Except for a very select few, most of us are so naive about its rules. Let us start from where we left off months ago….

The one that got away By Emmanuelle You thought, this one was in the bag. All the effort it was going to take was to pluck the fruit from the branch, plop it into the bag, then seal the bag. Voila! As you raised your hand to reach for the…

Lessons Unlearned By Emmanuelle Do not be a glutton; eat only what is enough to relieve your hunger. Chew your food well. There is always time for everything, everyone; all it takes is proper time management; patience, too. Love your neighbor as you love yourself; better still, love them as…

Clearing the Fog  By Emmanuelle This stories must be told, before more half-truth or near-truth but never the complete unadulterated truth shall cloud the clarity and the genuineness of all details of these actual incidents. Before somebody’s overactive imagination shall manufacture more and thicker fog of misinformation or disinformation of…

From the rest of us WEmen By Emmanuelle This is the last issue before the May 14 election. Let me take this opportunity therefore to wish Good Luck, God Bless to my friends, skirted or in slacks, long-haired or bald, daring or dared, idealistic or idealized. . . Congressman Mark…

Grandma Dearest By Emmanuelle The first day of this official campaign, she travels all the way from Manila during the wee hours of the morning. She sits her fragile bones on the hard seat of the lead vehicle of a convoy of Sarao jeepneys to be used for the mayoral…

Motives By Emmanuelle Sometimes, the best can turn out to be your worst. Friends, memories, etcetera. Let me tell you a true story.                To these boys, growing up was parallel to going up the ladder to somewhere up there. And to make the ascent a whole lot easier, theirs were…

Dream on! By Emmanuelle  It was in a dream that she saw them all. Not the souls nor the elementals.  Them. In the dream, she entered a room where she was made to grasp in her emptied hands a pen and an official form. She sat on a chair facing…

Be not sad! By Emmanuelle     Melancholia. Depression. The latter much worser than the former, ungrammatically on top of dramatically. This is the writer’s self-diagnosis of   what regularly ails her all of the days leading to Black Saturday, starting from Ash Wednesday. Every year. All of the years of…

This show must go on! By Emmanuelle Count the city and the towns within this district, and you come out with less than ten digits. With forty-four towns and four cities comprising six districts of the province, this hint would make it a little harder for you to identify the…