Lolo’s Ghosts! By Jing Villamil   THIS, too, waited three generations to be told. It is not about her Lolo’s ghost, obviously. Though he was, and is, much revered by his “salinlahi” for his superlative achievements despite all odds thrown his way from childhood to young adult, in their eyes,…

From here to there! (Part 6) Epilogue By Jing Villamil   AS soon as she stepped out of the car, and as soon as she looked around for Chuck, she felt something was terribly amiss. It was like waking up from a deep sleep and walking through an abandoned house…

From here to there! (Part 5) By Jing Villamil   CHUCK would go on making beautiful music with his band. God really does work in so many strange, wondrous ways. He gifted Chuck with the perceptive ability and facility to create music as he saw, or heard or felt it…

From here to there (Part 4) By Jing Villamil   IS it true; is it not . . . that heaven and hell is right here on earth? In four years, Manta had a lot of growing-up to do. She graduated from one of the country’s prestigious colleges in the…

From here to there (Part 3) By Jing Villamil   As we wander through life from here to everywhere . . . there are these moments so intense so exquisite that, though unphotographed or unrecorded, the imprints they carve in our minds scour deep and full. They might as well…

From here to there! Jing Villamil   AS she was toeing a leap from the fence to a stone bench, she paused. She hears a strumming of an intro to a song. She asks herself “but, that is my song! Or is it just music in my mind?” She nods…

From here to there! By Jing Villamil   SHE speaks just a few words, if at all, choosing these slowly; but with her body, she provides a more quick and graphic illustration of what she means to say. To tell “I feel nothing, I am emptied”, she mimes a cave…

This tunnel of lights, of hearts, of life By Jing Villamil   SHE wished for a symbol that would again awaken her people’s hearts, their hopes and sights. Because, for the recent past, their collective hearts had throbbed merely to survive; and their hopes and sights had merely peered round…

Playground in my mind! By Jing Villamil   THEN, too, the playground had gone. It didn’t disappear overnight. It took its time, like all things proverbial, slow but sure. We should have prepared ourselves for it, like waiting in dread for an aching tooth to give up its walls, thus,…

Scratchings! By Jing Villamil   YOU said it once, living alone too long is actually not too sad. But, it can be creepy weird. Especially when you are a feeling person, and the house feels with you as much. A strange case of empathy, connectivity. As said – creepy weird….