Tatay and the bullies By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo    

The Cross of the Kakawati By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo   ON March 20, I will be travelling at dawn to Puso ng Carmelo, to attend the 7:00 a.m. mass officiated by Bishop Soc Villegas for the first death anniversary of a good friend, Teresita de Venecia. It did not seem…

Hanamaruken By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo   HAPPY to have found a blazer of the color and size I wanted after a three-hour bout of fitting here and there, I thought of rewarding myself with a good meal. For weeks now, I wanted to go back to a decent ramen house,…

The elderly boy-driver By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo   ON the 30th of November 2014, early morning at 6:00 a.m., I boarded a Five Star bus to Urdaneta. I was the only passenger, and traveled with several sacks of vegetables which the driver picked in front of Balintawak. I commented that…

To bold or not to bold By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo    

ISO 14000 By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo   ISO 14000. Whatever that means. To Secretary Paje of the Department of the Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) it means, “This milestone is consistent with our mandate on sustainable development and environmental governance, and demonstrates the commitment of each employee of the DENR…

Virginity By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo    

Green con Virgins By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo   GREENHORNS and virgins share innocence, some people think so. Green is the color of virgin forests. Green is life. Green is “Go!” In Philippine slang, a “green mind” belongs to “someone who thinks compulsively erotic thoughts; dirty minded; the tendency to give…

The dead and the living dead By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo   “INATEY su angabil!” was an expression I heard from my father all the time. I never asked for an explanation, it seemed to me at that time self-explanatory, and since he laughed after saying so, I thought it must…

Soul Friends By Virginia Jamin Pasalo   POETRY brought Rosa Maria Magno and I on Facebook, or shall I say, pain? We liked each other’s poems, and most of our poems were about pain, passion and death. Our poems were coming from the same source, drops of rain that makes…