CYMO
COVER
vol. 17, June 2021 CYMO is the official Literary Folio of The Carrier. Published by the students, alumni, faculty and staff of John B. Lacson Colleges Foundation (Bacolod), Inc. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the permission of the publisher. Works that appear in this folio may contain themes, graphics, and topics some may find disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.
The Encounter
LITERARY EDITOR Ruer Torculas LAYOUT & PAGE ARTIST Chryshan Nheil Alejano ART DIRECTORS Ruer Torculas Paul Ivan Quezon GRAPHIC ARTIST Emmy Nava PHOTOGRAPHER Nele Stephen Pacurib
Illustration by Ruer Torculas
Introduction
Come to an apogee— a pinnacle of judgment riveting a vital turn of events leading to each alternative conclusion— an ending designed by fate. Two entries bear the same visage but precede a different route. To choose one means to surrender the other. To turn the knob means a choice resolved. With adrenaline rushing in, fighting out is a resumption to another opening while fleeing is discarding chances. You single out the options consciously but it takes time, so settling with your guts is a much better choice— or not. As you turn the door handle, your subconscious fear creeps, and going back is nearly impossible— point of no return. Crossing the threshold of the entrance insinuates welcoming of changes, embracing the consequences, celebrating rewards, and recollecting possibilities.
In this issue, CYMO calls on to take charge. May every word inscribed in the form of tragedy or journey remind us of the vulnerability and complexity of choices undertaken. The semblances of our decisions do not entirely mean being victorious at all times. Instead, they place us in an occurrence leading one after the other, challenging our indecisiveness with hesitations and decisiveness with hope. Our minds are an archive of every encounter we had in our lifetime. Let its inscriptions resonate a depth of understanding and freedom as you drive to create a narrative in your own accord, and at the same time take agency. So now, make a choice and bear every bit that brought you at the moment, because it will compose itself soon to arrive at an outcome.
Ruer G. Torculas Literary Editor
contents Part I. Metamorphosis 2 Canvas 4 Rencontre: Life in Pieces 7 A Moment with Nature 9 Ballad of the Iron Coffin 10 Through Night’s Time 13 If I ever get lost 14 Cosmos 15 Fate in a Billion Ways 17 I knew someone named Jin… Part II. Euphorias, Rhapsodies, and Fragile Things 20 Dapithapon 21 The Sun 22 Illusory 24 Air-Kissed 27 Running Circles 28 Imagine 28 Palms 29 Quarantine 31 Hubad 32 I Forgot Yet I Remember 34 Be careful with me 35 Loneliness: Past, Present, and the Future 36 Pangalan
Part III. The Butterfly Effect
38 Unknown Misery 39 paroxysm
We Are All Butterflies Katok 1 A.M. thoughts Insomnia Promises Pahula A battle with an unknown enemy
41 43 44 46 47 49 50
Part IV. The Hours of Midnight, Dusk, and Dawn Day 372 Puwang Ephemeral Found The Final Walk A dream that came true Genesis: Prologue Lockdown
52 53 54 56 58 59 60 64
Part V. Memento mori Waltzing with Death Ghost river Homecoming Cardo I’m Home Penultimate Acknowledgement Snippets from The Encounter References
66 67 68 70 71 72 74 77 78 80
Part I Metamorphosis
Canvas
Junelle Jane Bajala I was painting a canvas; one requires red paint and yellow. And as I began caressing the brush with a hello, the color touches with a promise. A mixture of paint was on the palette, where orange defined my ballad that was once tinted with the color of intimacy now turns into a colorless loyalty. Instead of painting on the canvas, I ended up painting my story. A once colorful canvas has now become blue and almost empty.
Illustration by Emmy Nava
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Pinta Photo by Christian Octoso
Rencontre: Life in Pieces Mary Aileen Labios
Take a glimpse. Life is a queer journey. A daredevil is of humans to experience life in its mysteries. We venture into life according to our purpose. We seek the depth of its abyss in accordance with how we verge the concept of it.
The reality is this: Life’s how we encounter it, how we overcome its pieces.
The peaceful rest of leaves as it touches the ground after its swift fall. The calm of seashells along the shore after a disastrous storm. A sound-sleeping baby after the last hymn of a lullaby. The still breeze soothes your body, rooting down through your soul. Through silence, scars, and tears also lies beneath a pungent desire of chaos— battling through human existence. Some are struggling, some are celebrating. A contrasting ideology knowing that life comes in both black and white, narrow and wide; made of various sides and various perceptions. The truth is, it is how we encounter it. Throughout man’s existence, we ought to seek pieces in life. A piece of belongingness and approval. A piece of warmth and comfort. A piece of companionship, and camaraderie. A piece of serenity and tranquility. Man would spend all his hours looking for his piece in this world. Yet, there is still a feeling of thirst, a sense of hunger — they still crave for more.
The reality is this: Life’s how we encounter it, and how we overcome its pieces.
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The highways taught us how to dance the mazurka on the streets. We bump into moments wherein you dream a lot, live a lot, and achieve a lot. We encounter life at its peak in the middle of joyous moments. The byways edify how we act when life gets tough—lurking in the shadows of sorrows, grieving. Some experienced being stabbed with people’s natural knife, the human’s tongue. Young ladies are victims of misconceptions. Some are whining about their imperfections. Both men and women are torn because of depression. One cannot just look someone in his eyes and says “he’s sad” — it is the art of diving deep into someone’s soul in order to understand the naked scars, tears, and insecurities hidden behind masks. “Huwag matakot salubungin ang mga piraso ng buhay.” The more you encounter brokenness, the more you appreciate wholeness. The more you experience ache, the more you cherish happiness. The more the wound gets bigger, the more you learn how to heal. The more you have been cursed, the more you learn how to bless others. The more you have been hated, the more you learn to give love. The more you have been limited to go higher, the more you learn to grow deeper. Take a glimpse. This is reality—a rencontre of life in its pieces. Life is how we encounter it, how we overcome its pieces. A lifelong journey it is of life to encounter and dwell in its pieces. Roger Crawford once said, “Being challenged in life is inevitable, being defeated is optional.” Every spirit is struggling, from daylight to sundown. One eternity wouldn’t be enough to grasp the concept of it. Yet, how we perceive it depends on how we listen to its hymn, how we dance to its rhythm. Kaya huwag matakot salubungin ang mga piraso ng buhay.
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Wilderness Art by Nele Stephen Pacurib
A moment with Nature Allen Tordesillas
Breathe for a moment Forget all the worries behind Appreciate the wonders around Let it calm your mind Observe the golden rays glow From the magnificence of the rising morning sun Embrace the empowering presence From the breaking of dusk to dawn Enjoy the soft caress Of the gentle ocean breeze Listen to its fragile tune Together with the splashing waves Scrutinize the evening sky Through its dazzling splendor The vast and open pallet Combining shapes and colors Give a still moment Every once in a while Appreciate the beauty of nature around Take it in with a smile
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Illustration by Emmy Nava
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Ballad of the Iron Coffin Angelo Pineda
Onwards to where the horizon meets the sea A place where you feel imprisoned but free A thousand miles away from family With a fate only determined by thee This is what we do in search of gold A selfless sacrifice for the comfort of those we dearly hold We brave the threat of warmth and cold In a place only conquered by the brave and bold All we do is count the time Every day is a moment closer to home The world’s seas is a playground to which we roam There is nothing we can do but sing The melody of the ballad of the iron coffin
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Through Night’s Time Alpha slakatub
I Dark and cold as it may be Strolls yonder for I am free Yet why do I feel I am alone? Why am I happy in the darkness’ zone? II Windily chills come to a breeze Grief and sadness, I am to seize Growing fond, so weary and numb Through night’s time, I will succumb III Aging as years come and go Loneliness forming high and low Through night’s time, I’ll have my bliss Though the world smells horse’s piss IV In an outage of light, I feel calm In the dark, I read my palm Through night’s time, there is to build What’s inside that I have sealed V As I wait for the light, I found joy In the darkness, I am his boy All throughout I have been there Feeling all my tear and care
Illustration by Emmy Nava
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VI Move on as I go, still left behind Through night’s time, I have gone blind Even silver linings grow to nothing As I can’t feel that I am something VII The creator above I cried and called Having a surrounding my time has stalled Knowing they’ll cry if I put this all on a halt Having wounds pinched with grains of salt VIII Through night’s time, I have realized In the darkness, I’ll be jeopardized I want to grip on to that very light I will claim it with all of my might IX Free or not from this curse in me Through night’s time won’t ever be As I found new hope with my new rose That I’ll even protect from the rain of arrows X The darkness in my dream slowly ceased As my rose grew in my heart, she leased Through night’s time will soon be dawn Having my very rose color my lawn
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Ginhanan Photo by Joemel Paulmitan
If I ever get lost Paul Ivan Quezon If I ever get lost, Know that I wandered Far— far from those who Tried to stray me towards Places where I am unwanted. To places my coins mean nothing But a stone in a rocky mountain; To places my tears are just water; And my pain as a throbbing muscle. Tell them it wasn’t their fault That the streets don’t have signs. When it rains, I’ll find some shelter Under tall trees with leafy branches. The sun guides me where the east goes When I take the trail to the west. I’ll keep walking this road For my weary feet to follow. I am not trapped in the woods Because it was me who ventured deep. Let the stones I dropped stay in place For if I ever get lost, I still want to be found.
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Cosmos Gelli Tanilon
On the cold winter night, there was a flower in the breeze, where its petal freezes under the blizzard`s embrace. It shivers under the chilly night, yet under the frostbite, heat starts to ignite inside the flower that reached cosmos’ power. The flames will burn its tears of snow and a purple flower will glow. Blazing from the winter`s breath, it begins to bloom tranquil underneath.
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Fate in a Billion Ways Mark John Priolo Revolving world moved everything apart. Only took the slightest of action to change history; the affected future became an inglorious past. Everyone took steps and was divided by a billion paths, proved their strength and twisted faith. People swam in trichiliocosm of the unknown, Journeyed they fought to know thy purpose.
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Hollow Photo by Nele Stephen Pacurib
I knew someone named Jin... Joshua Malapitan I knew someone named Jin. He used to be called paper-thin. Always feeling sick and weak. Yet, he never bothered, Neither did he become outraged. I knew someone named Jin. People called him queer Always alone, he had no peers. The silence was music in his ear, A time where no degradations he hears. I knew someone named Jin. He was belittled but skilled. Always on top but he never bragged. With his presence, A lot are intimidated. I knew someone named Jin. He looked joyous and genuine. He wanted to feel belonged, A place where he can be himself, Yet, no one accepted. I knew someone named Jin. In a society full of judgments, He lived with a heavy heart. Still, he never bothered, Neither did he become outraged. I knew someone named Jin. Enormity never prevails, He deemed. Hurtful notions were the reasons he strived For a life, once he thought was kind.
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Upuan Illustration by Ruer Torculas
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Part II Euphorias, Rhapsodies, and Fragile Things
Dapithapon Jasele Mae Priolo Nais kong matutong gumuhit upang mailapat ko ang aking mga alaala kasama ka sa mga blankong papel na siyang maghahayag kung gaano kadalas mo akong naging minsan. Nais kong matutong umawit nang marinig mo naman ang mga boses— dumadagondong, nakakabingi, ngunit kailanma’y hindi mo ninais pakinggan. Nais kong matutong sumayaw umindak kung kinakailangan kung sa bawat indayog ng musika ay siyang pagsabay ng iyong nararamdaman. Nais ko at nanaisin ko pa rin na matutunan kung papaano tayo naging tugma, naging payapa, naging sigurado. Sa mga panahong sinandal ko ang aking ulo sa iyong balikat, sabay sa paglubog ng araw sabay ng bawat dapit-hapon.
Illustration by Emmy Nava
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The Sun Santijmlo
I was passing by when I saw you in that beautiful yellow dress shining brighter than the sun I know my eyes may burn the longer I stare but I’d rather look at you At that moment, I believed that anything was possible that I could hold the Sun just with my bare hands that I could sustain the burning heat and its blinding rays that I’ll be ready when the time comes that it will explode and wipe the world I’m seeing in front of me I was ready so I took the Sun and the Sun took me It shined brighter than the stars in the universe It gave me the light so I could see the world much better than I did before; it gave me warmth during the coolness of the night But as time passes by the Sun started to change Unlike before, now it barely gives me a ray of light the world dimmed I can’t see the life I’m living in Days turned cold as the nights I thought I’ll be ready when this time comes but no, you can never be, one can never be ready until it happens right before your eyes but I should be, I should be, Then the Sun explodes, like a party popper, into a thousand mini-lights Nothing of sight, oblivion came, I was there standing alone with nothing left in me, except what was left of the glorious explosion— pieces of memories with the Sun— with my Sun— I needed her more than she needed me, I longed for her more than she longed for me, I loved her more than she loved me, I guess you cannot love a Sun, But I just did.
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Illusory Neil Carlo Vallega In these times of tomorrow, when hope is not found within the singularity Thus spurs a radiance; hope is filled, unexpectedly. You were the light that never fails to illuminate, even when the sun refuses to shine. An illusory sunflower dimmed within the beams of the moonlit dusk.
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AILEEN PHOTO
Witness of Love Photo by Mary Aileen Labios
Air-Kissed Steve Borreros Romano
You chased after me. I shove open the door with a deafening crash, slamming it against the opposite wall. You rise and call out to me, incoherent words, and meaningless phrases. The late afternoon light is bronze and sears my cheeks without notice. The suitcase in hand is empty, barren, and void like a desert; what do I have to take with me when you’ve plundered and stolen everything else? The lonely dirt road is strangely unfamiliar, but the train station is in sight. I stride towards it. You caught my hand. As you wretch my body to face towards you, your gasps surge down my face and your dark eyes distort, wild with fear. You ask me stupidly if I was really going. When I recoil, you pluck me back again as if I am a flower that bends away from your oppressive wind. Staring at me to the point of being a glare, you tell me not to leave. My dress slides easily over my body like the ocean’s waters; what happened to the love that was born that day I first touched the sea’s tears? A distant ringing weaves in between us like a fluttering butterfly, warning me that the train was leaving. I start to tear away... You drew my lips to yours. As I try to break free again, you yank me in, and your cold lips press against mine. Your hand screens and masks my cheek. For a moment, I forget my anger, and everything seems right again. But I remember her, the one who destroyed everything that was right between us. I can feel the cold ring on your finger that presses against my cheek like a cold glass window; why did you care if you had her? A hard slap across the face shatters our contact. Hot angry tears scald my eyes and face. I turn away, knowing that if my graze crosses yours, I will lose sight of all reason to leave, to become your chained prisoner again. My eyes didn’t catch yours. The hard road pounds against my feet. My sandals unravel then fall away, allowing loose stones to claw and to slice at my skin. The torrid heat parches my already impoverished throat. Rasps heave my body and, for an instant, the sun shudders. Then your voice screams the phrase that threatens to draw me back and make my tears storm for you. To weep for the paradise lost to us. Those two words still ring in my ears as my feet whisk me away. Don’t go!
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~~~ Screech! The ear-piercing sound as the train shrieks to a stop slaps me out of my shrouding thoughts. I look up. I’m alone on this platform with only the dry wind as my companion. I see myself standing, abandoned on the forsaken platform like the sole survivor standing in the scorching desolation of an all-consuming firestorm. Then I remember. When I left, you didn’t chase after me or catch my hand or kiss me or beg me to stay. You didn’t care enough to come after me. You chose her and forgot me.
You didn’t follow.
The sliding door glides open before me with a low hiss. Staring over my shoulder one last time, there is only empty space waiting for me on the tiled platform. Then I wrap my hand around the handle to hoist myself up onto the lined steps. Suddenly, something wispy curls around my wrist, stopping me. There, you were the most perfect mirage that my delusional mind could create. This apparition has the special scent that you had. Your echoing words of don’t go, like the last dying notes of a love song... I am shocked to find that even shaking my head was difficult. Your eyes convey the deepest regret that would’ve never appeared on your real face and warmth spreads from me for this flawless illusion that takes your smooth features. Before I can stop myself, I close my eyes and lean forward. My lips touch yours so tenderly. To the world, I was just kissing the air. Maybe I was just kissing my heart goodbye. But that last fleeting kiss, like a grazing butterfly, tasted like the salty tears of a faraway ocean where love was once born.
If only you cared enough to follow.
If only you cared that much.
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Hakbang Photo by Nele Stephen Pacurib
Running Circles Kent BJ Hortillosa The rain is pouring, the same with my tears. You saw me standing under the lamppost of 8th street. Instead of sharing your umbrella, You joined me in the rain. The pain inside me faded slowly, Turning my sorrow to comfort. You smiled and said, “You’ll be okay.” I’m glad you were there. As we talked, the rain stopped. The moonlight gleamed upon us. It turned your face into a mystery. I stepped back thinking doubtful. Will we, strangers, turn into lovers? And then end up strangers again? Is this just a temporary flame? Of a matchstick that burns out hastily. You seemed to be worth the risk. I made my heart ajar again for you. I saw us like a fairy tale. I thought it was a happy ever after. But why am I standing alone again? Standing under this lamppost of 8th street. Finding myself crying like yesterday. This time, you’re not there. Every day, I end up standing here. I always thought of you. Even it’s been six years since you passed, The memory of our first meeting still echoes. I couldn’t move on from you. Because of all heartaches, Loving you was the only thing I never regret. And it hurts me everyday. I was broken when you appeared. I’m still broken when you disappeared. Wherever you are right now, You’ll always be in my heart.
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Imagine Arjen Castillano
Imagine if I have been somebody who’s not broke or begging. Imagine if this is not my tier; I should have lived wholly, no fear.
Palms
Arjen Castillano Looking for a sign praying for something bigger but here’s the lie my arms would be wide open not only for you to hold them but to free our hearts— still aching.
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Quarantine Jio Magin Wish we could wander outside this city Roaring the car towards the lonely old town Streetlights, I couldn’t barely see I love the feeling of being finally free Playing “folklore” on your radio It helps us feel the vibe, bass on your stereo You drive the car with full ease While we flee to the peaceful ground to escape the city We showed up to the place we marked to go Cool breeze touching my skin as they flow Placed a white blanket to the green grass And filled it with foods that your mom told you to bring We snapped several shots under the calmy heat Threw a smile with those perfect teeth I wish I could spend my quarantine like this everyday Watching sunset from the highlands of the hopeful south I wish I could spend most of my quarantine like this Which distinguishable suntans appear to our skin, Photoshoots by the Solar fields, snaps by the mirror and picnic under the solemn tree I wish we’ll never end after this quarantine ends.
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Hubad art
Illustration by Emmy Nava
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Hubad Santijmlo
Kinausap ko ang kalangitan, Ba’t tunay na pag-ibig ipinagkakait, Ang lunas na lang ba ng kahapong pighati, Ay dalawang katawang busog sa madaling sandali. Tinanong ko ang kalangitan, Ano ba ang kasalanan? Ayaw ko na ng katawang uhaw sa kaaliwan, Diligan ang pusong nagnanais ng katotohanan. Sumagot ang kalangitan, Yan ba talaga ang iyong ninanais? Pwes pumunta ka sa hardin ng walang damit, May diwatang naghihintay. Parehas kayo ng kinakamit. Tinanong ako ng kalangitan, Bat ‘di mahubad yung kaluluwa, Pag-ibig diba yung hinahanap mo hindi katawang ligaya? Oo, pero takot ako humubad. Kinausap ako ng kalangitan, Hubad na kaluluwa ay higit sa hubad na katawan, Gumuho man ang mundo, kaluluwa’y mananatili. Kaluluwa o katawan ika’y pumili. Sumiklab ang kalangitan, Bumalik ka sa iyong pinanggalingan, Suriin ang sarili kung ano ang kagustuhan, Aliw ng katawan o Pag-ibig na katotohanan, At kung sigurado ka na, Tatanungin ulit kita, ‘Yan ba talaga ang iyong ninanais?
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I Forgot Yet I Remember Rica Jane Diamante I opened my eyes and all I see is lushes of green Flowers of different colors and a beautiful lively stream I forgot how I got here Yet I remember this place where I met her I forgot her name yet I remember her angelic face Russet brown eyes staring warmly Doesn’t even have a single streak of wary I forgot the song Yet I remember her singing to me: “Lavender’s green dilly, dilly, lavender’s blue If you love me dilly, dilly, I will love you” I forgot the reason why she is laughing beside me Yet I remember how her laughter filled my heart with glee My whole world seems to stop when I look at her Like I cannot get enough of it even it will take forever I forgot if I asked her to dance Yet I find myself swaying her to music like we are in a trance I forgot who she is to my life Yet I feel like I’m begging for her to be my wife Then everything started to fade What if nothing was left, I’m afraid Not her, please not her, I prayed I want to be with her, I tried to convey Though I forgot, yet I remember Again I encounter Those lost memories I tried to recover Of the lady whom I love forever and ever In a snap, I find myself in the same place yet I am alone As leaves fall, so did my memories to the abyss of oblivion Surprisingly, an old lady came today Saying, “Love, happy ninety-first birthday.”
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PHOTO AILEEN
Confident Expectation Photo by Mary Aileen Labios
Be careful with me Yhwach
Are you a new person venturing to enter my soul? To enlighten you, a forewarning, I am firmly contrasting the image you created in your mind from who I really am; Do you think it’ll be too easy for me to become your admirer? How can you be so sure that I could return your unrequited love? Did your sense get blurry because of this sinister obsession? Have you considered, O sweetheart, that this is just a facade? If you could only see behind this masquerade— this debonair and chivalrous traits of mine are just lies; Nothing was more substantial than the nature of deep affection but be careful with me— I am just a man with many flaws.
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Loneliness: Past, Present, and the Future J.R.R. • • • •
Needing a hand in the middle of despair and unsurprisingly no one was there. Talking to yourself without a mirror was a brave dare like a fool smiling, crying, and laughing— a stare.
• • • •
Reminiscing, suddenly an uneventful rain was falling, and a wet black floor was making. Then there was that water reflecting, and the stare began talking.
• • • •
Still laughing out loud insulted by the unflinching stare was an immediate silence that no one hears. When out of nowhere asking a sentimental question, “are you there?”
• • • •
Reminiscing and understanding the thoughts made the eyes blink, the peace and harmonious silence concluded— thinking while answers are still in the making “I am still here,” began talking.
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Pangalan Jio Magin Tila hindi maipaliwanag Kung ano ang pawang nararamdaman Puso tila’y may binibigkas Sampung letra, isang pangalan Sana ay may sagot sa aking mga katanungan Bakit tila ay ika’y napapanaginipan Sa mga madilim na gabing kay lamig Ihip ng hangin na kay sarap pakinggan ‘tulad ng ‘yong himig ‘Di lubos maisip na ika’y pakakawalan Huwag mag alala, hihintayin kita Hanggat makakaya, hihintayin ang bawat umaga Sa pag gising, nasa tabi mo’t hindi lilisan Sa pagsikat ng araw ay isang bagong pag-asa Para makita ang iyong mga mata at labi Na ubod ng ganda na hindi maikukumpara Sa bilyon-bilyong ngiti ngunit ikaw lang ang tanging ninanais Sampung letra, isang pangalan ‘Gaya ng bituin, O kay rami ngunit isa lang ang nagniningning Sa maitim na kalawakan, ikaw ay nag iisang nakikita Ng aking mga mata na kay sabik ‘kong sambitin Sampung letra, isang pangalan Tanging ikaw lamang, wala nang kaagaw.
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Part III The Butterfly Effect
Unknown Misery Alpha slakatub I Calling out for help as I grow tired and weary In the abyss deeper and dark void misery Surrounded by many yet I still feel so empty Withering by the day of my life’s treachery II I wanted to go on a never-ending dream Where there’s no pain and an evil scheme Why does the world have a scarlet theme? Unknown misery of I, by a dark long stream III As I grow older the darkness covers more Having thoughts of a bad never-ending lore I don’t even know what to look forward for As my soul perishes vanishing to the core IV Will they even feel my worth as I go away? Will they even need my presence every day? Will they even cry on my never-ending lay? Will they even remember as I go and decay? V Such thoughts are worthless and so sad As I’m alone and am about to go mad If you think things are already pretty bad The presence of I is lost to my dear old dad VI A mistake of I clears out my good deed Judging me as someone’s evil steed Oh, God! please just hear my heed For this world gives me a lack of what I need VII I want to be forgotten and perish all alone I should never feel all the love they have shown I don’t deserve all this feeling in my bone I don’t deserve my life’s sweet melody tone
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paroxysm Steve Borreros Romano
Locked away in solitude, within the shadows I remain, awash in a sea of phantoms, adrift in a storm of pain. Ghostly gasps around me, haunting voices of sins described, without a scream, I live this dream, wholly within my shattered mind. I see a scene of sadness, a vision of days gone by, a revelation of what awaits me here beneath this long-dead sky, these bars they comfort little, to protect me, or those outside, either way, it’s how it’s supposed to be, in a rhapsody I used to hide. No sense of how things ought to be, no comprehension or logic here, for a frenzied encephalon passes the time, grinning from ear to ear. remorse has long since faded, if ever it did exist, and happiness is overrated, for insanity I call bliss. Locked away in solitude, within this shadow I’ll remain, wrapped comfortably within madness, with an unsoundness of mind to blame.
Illustration by Emmy Nava
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We Are All Butterflies Mary Aileen Labios
On a midnight summer’s dream Awoken by an unfamiliar gleam A butterfly resting on my hand An image I could not understand A scenario came to my vision A moment, a chance, a decision As the images blur my sight The memory came to light Endless possibilities lie in a moment My words, a catalyst, an instrument Creating a reverberation of consequences Numbing me down to my senses The truth is revealed and I could not deny I’m not in control, but I could rectify As the butterfly flutters its wings away I woke up with a promise to be careful of what I say
Illustration by Emmy Nava
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Midnight Fears Photo by Nele Stephen Pacurib
Katok
Rengil Mana-ay “Taps! Taps! Taps! Lights off...” Alas 10 ng gabi ang oras ng aming pagtulog sa dormitoryo. Lahat ng nakabukas na ilaw ay dapat patay na, at lahat ng mga bibig ay dapat nakatikom na. “Observe silence! Everybody should be in their respective bunks.” mando ng naka-duty na kadete. Pagkatapos nito ay inisa isa na niya ang mga kwarto upang tiyakin na madilim na ang mga silid at tahimik na ang lahat. Agad-agad naman kaming umakyat sa ikatlong palapag kung saan naroroon ang aming kwarto, katabi ng storage room ng dormitoryo. At habang nagsitahimikan na ang karamihan at nasa himbing na ang iilan, may biglang kumatok. Tok. Tok. Tok. “Huwag mong buksan,” nakangiting ibinulong ng isa naming senior. Nagkasalubong bigla ang aking mga kilay sa litó. “Huwag mo bubuksan ang pinto. Alam mo ba kung ba’t pag kumakakatok nagsasabi ng ‘tao po’?” “Bakit, sir?” tanong ng kasamahan ko. “Para malaman ng nasa loob ng kwarto na tao ang kumakatok at hindi si Smiley, ang multo sa dormitoryo.”
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1 A.M. thoughts Angella Ga I started composing this at 1:19 Hoping to let you know the unseen Those silent cries behind the curtain Low voices and sobs I cannot contain I held my mouth close Tears and sobs, adios I’ve longed to be free from the abyss But here I am, in an encounter again with the ceaseless I am hardly breathing All my life I’ve been merely living When will my death start to knock on me? Tormenting thoughts; when will you set me free?
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Mag-isahanon Photo by Joemel Paulmitan
Insert photo or graphics
Insomnia E.S.N. As she lay in her bed awake, with haunting thoughts of her mistakes. Thoughts that she cannot unthink Fighting not to let it sink. Knowing sleep will make it all alright If she does not come out of it alive.
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Promises Joshua Malapitan In the midst of a skeptical world, A promise enlightened the hopeless. Words spoken latched onto the mind, From someone we conceive true. Although assurance is still unseen, We kept ourselves esteemed. For trust overpowers doubt, Even if reality stabs and leaves us no way out. We never understand the heft of promises Until the day we face its consequences. A time where recision’s the only means To save one’s heart and inner peace. Wishing oblivion is the only cure, A shattered pledge has afflicted. Years may come and go, Won’t fix a past that has been tainted.
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PHOTO (Aireen nga gahibi hibi
Mournful Sight Photo by Mary Aileen Labios
Pahula Rengil Mana-ay Isang beses, biglaang inaya ako ng aking kaklase papuntang downtown upang mamasyal. Ako’y nagulumihan nang dinala niya ako sa tapat ng simbahan at isinama sa isang manghuhula. “Hija, hindi ka tao ‘no?” tanong ng manghuhula. Hindi ko nga pala alam. May mga linya pala ang mga palad nila.
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A battle with an unknown enemy Joshua Malapitan They say, our mind is one of the most powerful weapons a man can have that even guns and swords couldn’t defeat. But what if the one you thought will be your greatest armor appears to be your own enemy? It’s really hard to combat something, especially when we couldn’t even see the enemy through our naked eyes. Apart from that, it is certifiably more difficult if the problem is in our own thinking. Oftentimes, we take these mental illnesses as something not to worry about, however those people who struggle to survive every day due to their psychological instability are a different story. They may look fine physically when in a company or in public, yet inside their system is something they couldn’t control. Rapid heartbeats, unusual shaking and bouncing of a leg, and being paranoid are some of the symptoms of their attacks. Sometimes we make jokes about these things although it is not in our intention to hurt. Still, we are insensitive for laughing at the misfortunes of others. Personally, I have been through a lot of emotional and psychological stresses in the past that took me to a point where it already hampered my time, focus, and productivity. At first, I was in denial thinking that this is not serious but symptoms kept on recurring for months. It was then when I realized that there is something wrong with me. I never talked to anyone about this only because I don’t want to be a burden; so I tried to live like nothing is happening when I am with others. After all, I was wrong. I should’ve not kept it all to myself. Hiding what you feel adds fuel to that burning system inside. It wouldn’t help you either if you could escape that imprisonment. Seeking help is not and will never be a manifestation of weakness. We can’t survive life all by ourselves; there are certain situations where someone is needed to endure life. Waves in the ocean aren’t constantly calm, at times it can be rough but that does not mean the whole voyage is a failure. So is life, it isn’t all about euphorias and that it’s valid not to feel okay for as long as we know how to acknowledge and accept our weaknesses— we can win a battle.
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Part IV The Hours of Midnight, Dusk, and Dawn
Day 372 Ruer Torculas
Press Briefing of Presidential Spokesperson Harry Roque (March 22, 2021)
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Puwang Lucky Lee Garcia Tama nga ang tadhana. Hindi kailanman magtatagpo ang gabi at umaga. Mananatili ang pagitan sa buwan at mga tala. At gaano mo man katagal hinintay ang pagdating at pananatili ng taong pinipili mo sa bawat sandali, magkaiba pa rin ang musikang pinapakinggan ng puso at isip. At sa mga puntong hindi mo na maramdaman ang bigat at pait ng mga bagay sa paligid, huwag kang manahimik. Iparamdam mo sa iyong mga mata ang pagpikit, taliwas sa pahingang sa sarili mo’y ikaw mismo ang nagkait. Yakapin mo ang bagyo ng sakit at galit. Wag kang magmadali. Dahan-dahan mong ibalik ang mga alitaptap, ang paglipad mo sa himpapawid, ang pagkapit mo sa maling bisig at ang pagbagsak mo kasama ng mga paru-paro ng madayang pag-ibig. Magtira ka ng kaunting hininga at kung nararamdaman mo na ang nag-aabang na pagsuko, umahon ka. Bumangon ka. Hindi natatapos ang lahat sa huling letra at simbolo ng pahina. Pero ‘wag na muling maging bulag sa huling mensahe ng tula dahil baka nga— Tama ang Tadhana. Tama na muna.
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Ephemeral Neil Carlo Vallega The glittering sparks were lucent enough to blind the wisest of man that it was rather transient; such eyes. And comes along the fierce excitement of a fleeting moment, stealing and stalling the order and chaos of such emotions; running of scintillating imaginations, that a man can compose— a glimmer of a sonata but such a heart valued by art ended far too easy Such a spark as is, ephemeral.
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Split second Photo by Nele Stephen Pacurib
Found
Paul Ivan Quezon “See, I found you!” the father exclaimed, finding his six-year-old son hiding behind a bush while playing hide and seek. The young boy chuckled as his father scooped him up and laid him on the green grass in their backyard. They lay side by side as the sky starts to turn a darker shade of blue with the gray moon above them. “Papa,” said the boy, staring at the sky. The father rolled his head to one side, facing his son. “Do the people on the moon see us?” he asked naively. He knew it was just a curious question from a kid, but for someone who is going to the moon, the question was a bit tricky to answer. In a few months, he will be a part of history in the first space mission, and that means leaving his family behind. His father smiled. “Of course, son. They also wonder the same thing, you know— if we can see them, and when I come up there, too, I will always find you.” Eight years after the tragedy of the failed space mission, the once young boy lay awake in the same backyard where he and his father used to spend time looking at the moon.
I will always find you.
But the moon was hiding behind a sea of clouds tonight. A few moments later, the clouds cleared away, giving the moon its moment to shine again.
“See, I found you!” he whispered.
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Enlightened Soul Photo by Mary Aileen Labios
The Final Walk Angelo Pineda Hail to thee in my final days Smiles and tears as we part our ways Memories I kept were bittersweet Claps and cheers as the spotlight lit As we walk forward down the aisle I reminisce back in time This is the end of the line A compilation of all those golden times I bid farewell to the academe As I sing my alma mater’s hymn I give thanks to my beloved folks This is me, taking the final walk
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A dream that came true Rengil Mana-ay We were sitting in the sand with our hands entwined as we were watching the waves hit the shore. Everything was so fine while we were talking about our goals and aspirations for ourselves, family, and us two. We didn’t care about anything that moment— not even time tho t’was going dusky already. “Someday, I’ll be wearing my sophisticated white coat with my name, your last name and MD embroidered on it,” you said with pride and a glowing smile. Your dream of becoming a doctor really glittered through your eyes. “And you, you’re going to be the captai— oh, Chief Engineer of a huge vessel,” You uttered with excitement while looking at me. Silently, I said a little prayer hoping that it would be you and me forever and that together, we’ll be turning our dreams into reality. A decade and a half later, I did undergo various medical exams as part of my requirement before I come back on board. “Good morning, Doc.” “Good morning... C/E Reyes, right?” I startled. The face seems so familiar. In a spur, my memory tries to recall the resemblance in front of me. And then suddenly, I saw K. Santos, M.D. stitched on her white coat. I was trying really hard to control my emotions and not to blink as I slowly realized that the doctor in front of me was the girl I shared my dreams with. Yes, indeed, we made our dreams come true— not together but apart.
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Genesis: Prologue Paul Ivan Quezon
There is one story unknown to man. It was only Heaven— called Bala, who was able to tell this legend; the sole witness of creation and tragedy. But Bala could no longer bear its secrecy and passed it down to his creation through the whispering winds. The legend couldn’t be carved in the stones or written in books. The happening in the story changes through word of mouth. Men fear Bala’s wrath if their tale becomes twisted. However, writing this down without being struck by lightning or dying in my sleep means I got the legend correctly. I understood why this tale made Bala keep it for eons. It was, after all, not a happy story. In the beginning, Bala created Earth. It was still a barren sphere deprived of life floating in the vast dark universe. It wasn’t Bala who made the mountains and oceans, the meadow and swamps, and the sand sprawling on our shores. Bala doesn’t have the patience to do it, so they created a man and a woman. They called the man Andal and the woman Ahon. Both of them had their unique gifts that Bala bestowed; they possess the gift of life. However, Bala was wise enough to put them in the same place together. Andal and Ahon were created on opposite sides of the planet. It was a clever thing for Bala to do that, but it was necessary to test fate. Unaware the other exists, they must fill Earth with their gifts in seven days. Andal graced the planet with grass, trees, hills, and forming the tallest mountains. On the other side of the world, Ahon created seas and oceans in her wake. The blue sky mirrors the glassy surface of the water. While the two creators continue their work, Bala whispered in their ears that they await each other and would soon cross paths. Andal and Ahon were shocked by the revelation. Both of them felt their heart beating faster. There was one thing Bala forgot to tell them—they must find one another on the seventh day, or they will vanish from the face of the Earth.
Illustrations by Emmy Nava
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On the first day, Andal grew trees as high as the clouds above. He wondered if climbing it would allow him to see beyond the horizon and find whoever Bala promised. To his dismay, the world was a lot bigger than he thought. Ahon made pools big enough to cover the entire planet. It was her idea to make it larger to get noticed sooner. To her dismay, the world was a lot bigger than she thought. Days have passed. Andal began forming mountains, each one higher than the other. Meanwhile, Ahon made her seas deeper. She was hoping maybe Bala’s promise was somewhere down below hidden in the depths. She gave up when she started losing sight of the blue surface. Both Andal and Ahon lose hope until the fifth day arrives. Ahon was resting on a barren spot when she noticed a stray leaf touching the surface of the water. It came from the west, so Ahon ran in that direction. A few minutes later, sprawled before her eyes are tall trees growing beneath tall blades of grass. Behind it are misty mountains of different heights. Excitement filled Ahon as she made her way across tall trees, leaving a trail of water behind. Each excited step makes the water rush until it creates a stream. Andal fell asleep in the green meadow he made. When he woke up, he noticed a strange blue field; stretching so wide, he thought it filled the whole planet. It was wondrous even though it is only water mirroring the blue sky. Andal knew somewhere beyond it, Bala’s promise wandered free and looked for him. However, he couldn’t find a way around the vast sea. He was too afraid to cross it and drown. So he conjured his gift to create small pieces of land where he could jump. He called it islands. He kept creating new islands until he found his way on the other side of the planet, where he could see his entire creation again: the towering trees and mountains.
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Andal and Ahon might have been sure of the other’s existence, but time is running out. On the sixth day, they start to notice each other’s trail in their creation. Ahon could see the islands forming in the middle of the sea, and Andal found the streams and rivers dividing the land. At last, came the seventh day. Bala was surprised to see the barren planet becoming a bountiful one. But their creators were nowhere to be found. Bala thought both have given up and maybe vanished already. Then Bala realized the two lost souls were still naive of their fate. Bala sent Agat the wind to find Andal and Ahon and whisper in their ears about their fate. They feel hopeful at first to search for each other in the last few hours of the day. They scoured the planet and even left signs. Time is running out. They finally found each other, but they’re both still too far from each other. Ahon was gasping for breath while Andal was grinning in delight. With a few distances between them, Andal and Ahon ran towards each other. But before their fingers could touch, they vanished off the face of the planet. It was also when the seventh sun set on the horizon.
Darkness starts filling the sky once again.
Bala sighed and Agat formed the gush of winds. It made the leaves in the trees sway and the water ripple. Bala couldn’t intervene with fate as it would destroy the balance. They couldn’t bring back Andal and Ahon. It was maybe their fate not to be with each other, however, they have their gifts. They might not be able to embrace each other but Bala made Agat feel both land and water touch. They made the ripples turn into waves, crashing it on the shore—a subtle touch Ahon could make with Andal. The leaves in the trees get blown in the wind until it falls on the water surface. A gentle touch Andal could muster to make Ahon feel his presence. Bala became sad about this outcome but found it necessary nonetheless. It was a disappointment kept for centuries. If you wonder what happened next, Bala created a new man and woman who came together in this world. Both of them got to embrace, see, and feel each other. They lived with the trees, mountains, rivers, and seas. They didn’t know of its creators and their journey for seven days only to face a sad fate.
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Lockdown
Comic by Emmy Nava
Emmy Nava Comics
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Part V Memento mori
Waltzing with Death Paul Ivan Quezon
Future is a faraway place and I’m counting down the days when my life will no longer be fazed by arrogance, hatred, love, or grace. I hope not to see the sun and its rays shedding light on shadows and greys Where the young boys and strays hideaway like falling preys. Bring me somewhere engulfed by haze; leave me lost in an endless maze— A place usually told in stories, the preacher prays the lost souls will not be praised. In the darkness, a creature lurks and slays strangers and those who lost their ways. But I am of this land, ravaged and razed, which the mortals wrongly portrays As Hell, a chasm with flames set ablaze, Is no place Death will ever praise. He who reaps the souls in a chaise passionately dances with me in a haste. I won’t have to speak a single phrase every time the hands fall to my waist For when the music starts, he sways me from the red door to the silver dais.
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Ghost Jasele Mae Priolo
Handwritten by Mary Louise Sanchez
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river Ruer Torculas Kapag ako’y ililibing sa sementeryong mapayapa, baklasin ang posas ng aking ina na ang tanging hiling ako’y mayakap sa huling sandali. Wala sanang babantay, hindi kailanman tatakas ang Inang tumatangis na ang may dahilan ng aking pagkamatay ay kayo rin lamang.
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Butwa Photo by Joemel Paulmitan
Homecoming Jasele Mae Priolo Outcries filled the four corners of the room. Murmuring, gossiping— what went wrong. There, she scanned their eyes looking through the depth of their soul, still unsatisfied. She yearns for more— maybe someone. Voice. She searches for that familiar sound, yet she couldn’t. It’s her last resort— her last rope to pull her up from the monster, she will become. Hopelessly, she took a glimpse of the ice-cold body in front of her. A loud grieving tone uproars. It pleases her. Finally, she sighs. For the last time, she stares at an old ragged man shaking the body of the young girl bathed in her own blood. Thoughts appeared in her mind what if she didn’t pull the trigger? Will she stand a chance to meet him again? The girl took a few steps beside him, smiles as she slowly fades away and whispers, “Welcome home, Dad.”
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Cardo Ruer Torculas
I pride myself that my Tatay is a policeman– like Cardo Dalisay. So, he did not hesitate to pull out his toy gun from his side pocket and show it off to his friends. It was just for an act.
Point blank.
I did not flinch when he suddenly pulled the trigger in front of me. The bullet went straight to his friends’ heads. First was the mother hugging her son. Next was the son. I stare blankly at their bodies as they fall onto the bare ground. It must be a good show. Tatay stood upright, completely unbothered. He must have gotten used to it, I thought.
But his friends were supposed to play dead.
Illustration by Emmy Nava
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I’m Home Rengil Mana-ay
I often sit and wonder if I should join you there not far from today. And when that day arrives, what if you’ve flown away somewhere? What if you’ve got tired of waiting and strolled in another time? A new beginning, a new life— I should be happy for you if that were to be so. But if you’re not there when it’s my turn, then I’m not sure if I’d still like to go. And when I am old, would you even know my face? Because I was young and carefree when the moon took you to space. And what if when I arrive, you won’t even know my name? What if you won’t remember me and my face and things won’t be the same? What if it has been way too long? Oh Father, I do despair! Please, won’t you wait for me so I may join you there? I’m sick of living in hell above Earth. Bring me to paradise with you, for in your arms. I know I’m home.
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Divine Encounter Photo by Nele Stephen Pacurib
Penultimate Ruer Torculas
“I can see it already.”
He meekly submits himself unknowingly to the parade of birds singing in chorus from his orchard. He catches his breath at every minute, trying to suffice to live— at least for a little while longer. Basking in the earthly warmth of his porch, he recollects the likeness of it to the embrace of his late mother, caressing him to sleep. “I did not think we’ll meet this much sooner, Mama,” letting out a deep breath as he settles himself comfortably to recount every fragmented memory engraved in his mind. “I used to become an artist, a writer, and a storyteller the least,” he reminisces. He forced his hand to scribble the words and figures to his worn-out notebook of listings of his great adventures and discoveries. With an extensive effort, he composes his last entry— an epilogue before the embarkation towards his creator. “I used to write them, live with them, and a moment from now, I get to be a story to be read,” he says with an inaudible sound. “With my last hope, I wish death will be as comforting for me.” Turning to the direction across his orchard, he muses in the sight of the flowers from years of nursing. The wind blows a gust, rocking his rattan chair back and forth, as the birds serenade in an increasing volume. It is like a conductor flicking his baton for the final act— a moment to behold.
Then it becomes silent.
The virtuoso’s pen and rose-beaded rosary which he grasps religiously, falls on the flimsy oak wooden floor, signaling the curtain call.
Illustration by Emmy Nava
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Acknowledgement To the contributors for heeding fate’s call in carving your stories to be etched in a timeless memento. Through your scribbled words and painted visuals masked in an endless interpretation, it enkindles out of the ordinary experiences and feelings. You have made this folio complete its missing pieces hidden in your locket of imagination— both thrilling and frightening. To Paul Ivan for lighting the path of the unknown. In the brightest and even the faintest of your spark had me ventured bravely in the course of seeking explanations and explicit significance of this encounter. Your unbounded vision and counsel holds at a great height, animated the folio with entirely different depth. To Chryshan and Emmy for binding the pages with pieces of wonder. Without your insightful eyes and creativity, the folio would not have a spine to stand on its own greatness. You have made a mosaic embedded by a meaningful presentation of what is truly a masterpiece. To Nele for letting us see the untried realm through your lenses. Your strong spirit has set us to a new array of perspective, immersing us in an unfamiliar landscape which you can only enter. To the Pubbies for rallying the line to shape the path of yet to be discovered. With your contribution in shedding light to a sometimes deranged route is undeniably inspiring that has got the folio going at a vantage point. To my friends, mentors and family for bearing my comfort in arduous times. You have inspired me to break the monotonous theme of life and revealed a spur of enlightenment with each of our unparalleled experiences. Fate has entwined our trails to create an encounter that will forever rest in our minds— some are spoken and some are not. Nevertheless, you all held me on a pedestal, believing that there are indeed things that still await even if I don’t see much of it clearly.
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snippets from The Encounter Letter to a dead lover a collection of pieces inspired by the works of the authors
Onwards to where the horizon meets the sea A place where you feel imprisoned but free Ballad of the Iron coffin, Angelo Pineda Everyone took steps and was divided by a billion paths, proved their strength and twisted faith. Fate in a Billion Ways, Mark John Priolo I don’t want to see you anymore— but when I passed through some familiar places, I found myself being hopeful Ghost, Jasele Mae Priolo I was painting a canvas; one requires red paint and yellow. Canvas, Junelle Jane Bajala the order and chaos of such emotions; running of scintillating imaginations, Ephemeral, Neil Carlo Vallega It gave me the light so I can see the world much better than I do before; It gave me warmth during the coolness of the night The Sun, Santijmlo Observe the golden rays glow From the magnificence of the rising morning sun A moment with Nature, Allen Tordesillas Blazing from the winter`s breathe, it begins to bloom tranquil underneath. Cosmos, Gelli C. Tanilon The sun guides me where the east goes When I take the trail to the west. I’ll keep walking this road For my weary feet to follow. If I ever get lost, Paul Ivan Quezon
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Looking for a sign praying for something bigger Palms, Arjen Castillano • Then there was that water reflecting, • and the stare began talking. Loneliness: Past, Present, and the Future, J.R.R. Did your sense get blurry because of this sinister obsession? Be careful with me, Yhwach It turned your face into a mystery. I stepped back thinking doubtful. Running Circles, Kent BJ Hortillosa When will my death start to knock on me? Tormenting thoughts; when will you set me free? 1 am thoughts, Angella Ga A new beginning, a new life— I should be happy for you if that were to be so. But if you’re not there when it’s my turn, then I’m not sure if I’d still like to go. I’m Home, Rengil Mana-ay Then everything started to fade What if nothing was left, I’m afraid I forgot yet I remember, Rica Jane Diamante The reality is this: Life’s how we encounter it, and how we overcome its pieces. Rencontre: Life in Pieces, Mary Aileen R. Labios For trust overpowers doubt, Even if reality stabs and leaves us no way out. Promises, Joshua Malapitan VIII Through night’s time, I have realized In the darkness, I’ll be jeopardized I want to grip on to that very light I will claim it with all of my might Through Night’s Time, Alpha slakatub To the world, I was just kissing the air. Maybe I was just kissing my heart goodbye. Air-Kissed, Steve Borreros Romano
“With my last hope, I wish death will be as comforting for me.” Penultimate, Ruer Torculas
Knowing sleep will make it all alright Insomnia, E.S.N.
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References of Encounter Encounters of romance Dapithapon p.20 The Sun p.21 Illusory p.22 Quarantine p.29 Pangalan p.36 Ephemeral p.54
Encounters of nostalgia I knew someone named Jin p.17 Quarantine p.29 I Forgot Yet I Remember p.32 Found p.56 The Final Walk p.58 Ghost p.67
Life encounters Rencontre: Life in Pieces p.04 Ballad of the Iron Coffin p.09 Through Night’s Time p.10
Heartbreak encounters Air-Kissed p.24 Running Circles p.27 Palms p.28 Hubad p.31 A dream that came true p.59
Encounters of self-discovery Canvas p.02 If I ever get lost p.13 Puwang p.53
Encounters of fear Hubad p.31 Unknown Misery p.38 paroxysm p.39
Encounters of enlightenment Rencontre: Life in Pieces p.04 A Moment with Nature p.07
Eerie encounters Katok p.43 Pahula p.49
Encounters within a dream We Are All Butterflies p.41
Encounters of hopelessness Be careful with me p.34 Unknown Misery p.38 1 A.M. thoughts p.44 Promises p.47 Day 372 p.52
Encounters of faith I’m Home p.72 Encounter with nature A Moment with Nature p.07 Ballad of the Iron Coffin p.09 Cosmos p.14
Encounters of insanity Loneliness: Past, Present, and the Future p.35 paroxysm p.39 Insomnia p.46 A battle with the unseen enemy p.50
Encounters of fate Fate in a Billion Ways p.15 Imagine p.28 Puwang p.53 A dream that came true p.59 Genesis: Prologue p.60
Death encounters Waltzing with Death p.66 River p.68 Homecoming p.70 Cardo p.71 Penultimate p.74
Loop encounters Running Circles p.27 I Forgot Yet I Remember p.32 Be careful with me p.34 Day 372 p.52
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TheCarrier E DI TOR I AL STAF F S .Y. 2 0 2 0 - 2 0 2 1
PAUL IVAN R. QUEZON Editor-in-Chief RENGIL V. MANA-AY Associate Editor ALLEN P. TORDESILLAS Managing Editor JASELE MAE S. PRIOLO Asst. Managing Editor ANGELO C. PINEDA News Editor MARK JOHN P. PRIOLO Feature Editor RUER G. TORCULAS Literary Editor CHRYSHAN NHEIL F. ALEJANO Layout and Graphics Editor EMMY S. NAVA Graphic Artist MARY AILEEN R. LABIOS NELE STEPHEN M. PACURIB Photojournalists ARJEN P. CASTILLANO Staff Writer MS. ALYN G. LIBERTAD, MAED Moderator
BACK COVER
