Malate Literary Folio Tomo XXXIX Special Folio

malate LITERARY FOLIO

MALATE LITERARY FOLIO

MARSO 2023

MALATE LITERARY FOLIO

Tomo XXXIX Special Folio

Karapatang-ari © 2023

AngMalate Literary Folio ang opisyal na publikasyon ng sining at panitikan ng Pamantasang De La Salle - Manila, sa ilalim ng awtoridad ng Student Media Office (SMO).

Ang mga komento at mungkahi ay maaaring ipahatid sa:

E-mail address: mlf@dlsu.edu.ph

Website: issuu.com/malatelitfolio

Facebook: fb.com/malateliteraryfolio

Twitter: @malatelitfolio

Instagram: @malatelitfolio

503-Media House, Bro. Connon Hall, De La Salle University-Manila, 2401 Taft Avenue, Malate, Manila.

Nananatili sa indibidwal na may-akda o may-dibuho ang karapatang-ari ng bawat piyesang ipinalimbag dito. Hindi maaaring ipalathala muli o gamitin sa anumang paraan ang alin man sa mga nilalaman nang walang karampatang pahintulot ng may-akda o may-dibuho

ANG TOMONG ITO AY HINDI IPINAGBIBILI. Mangyaring ipagbigay-alam sa mga patnugot ng Malate Literary Folio ang anumang paglabag ukol dito.

Ang layout ng folio ay gawa ni Alicia Andrea Ramos, Chloe Julianne F. Mariano, Juno Pongan, Rie Buban, at Maxine Lee. Ang pabalat ay pinamagatang “This House Is On Fire” ni Erin Marie Medina

INTRODUKSYON

Kung nais mong lumikha, hindi mo ito magagawa nang hindi kinikilala ang iyong musa. Hindi siya iisang persona; binuo siya ng samu’t saring danas, sinubukang tibagin ngunit bumabangon upang ipakita ang likas na lakas—laging tila may kailangang patunayan kahit walang dapat patunayan.

Kung magpipinta ka ng babae, siguruhin mong makikita ang kanyang marikit na ngiti. Ngunit isama mo sa iyong ipipinta ang kanyang mga kamay na pinatibay ng araw-araw na pakikibaka. Kung kukuhaan mo ng retrato ang babae, ibaling mo ang kamera sa kanyang mga mata. Nang sa gayon ay makita mo ang pinaghalong ligaya at poot. Mula sa kanyang balintataw, sipatin mo ang lipunang ginagalawan. Kung susulat ka ng kuwento ng babae, palayain mo siya. Matagal na panahon na siyang ikinulong sa naratibo ng kahinaan; bagay na hindi likas sa kanyang pag-iral. Hayaan mo siyang magkaroon ng sariling tinig at tindig; lagi’t lagi siyang mayroon nito. Kung hindi man, tulungan mo siyang bawiin ito.

Higit siya sa hinahangaang musa. May kapangyarihan siyang lilukin ang sariling persona’t lumikha ng sariling landas. Hindi nangingiming magsalita o sumigaw kung kinakailangan. Marahan siyang mananahan sa buhay ng lahat—bilang kaibigan, kasintahan, anak, ina habang nagmamahal, nanggagamot, nagtuturo, namumuno. Sa muling paglikha, i-abot ang lente’t panulat sa babae; siyang may-ari ng kuwento ang siyang magkukuwento.

LAUREN ANGELA CHUA

Punong Patnugot

kill you, it cannot be my fault

this flesh is yours just as much as it’s mine

Ana Gabriela Magno

one day, we will finally be well

Gwenevie Q. Bayaua

I dream of you

Gwenevie Q. Bayaua

Have You Ever Heard Her...

Kristen “Winsoar” Campos

Retrato

This House Is On Fire

Erin Medina

kamukha mo si paraluman

Uriel Anne Bumanlag

Screen/play

Next Year

Ana Gabriela Magno

Ang Madugong Pakikipagsapalaran nila

Darna, Dysebel, at Zsazsa Zaturnnah

Ina Abuan Pasasalamat

PATNUGUTAN

LAUREN ANGELA C. CHUA

Punong Patnugot

Patnugot ng Screen/Play

ALEXANDRA MONIQUE D. MANALO

Pangalawang Patnugot

Tagapamahala ng Pagmamay-ari

URIEL ANNE T. BUMANLAG

Patnugot ng Retrato

WILLIAM GEOFFREY T. LINDOG

Patnugot ng Prosa

RIGEL RUEL E. PORTALES

Patnugot ng Tula

ANA GABRIELA C. MAGNO

Patnugot ng sining

MAXINE LUISA C. LEE

Tagapamahala ng Marketing And Events

CHOE JULIANNE F. MARIANO

Tagapamahala ng Layout

MGA TAGAPAYO

Dr. Mesandel Arguelles

Mr. Vijae Alquisola

KASANGGUNI

Ms. Ina Abuan

MGA SENYOR NA PATNUGOT

Elijah Mahri Barongan

Miguelle Cortez

Van Rien Jude Espiritu

Matthew Rafael Florendo

Kyle Noel Ibarra

Heavenleigh Faye Luzara

Jamie Shekinah Mapa

Benedict Lim

Ma. Bea Joelline Martinez

Querix Keershyne Rose Recalde

Eloisa Sison

Dana Beatrice Tan

Isabella Tuason

Cielo Marie Vicencio

Vince Gerard Victoria

Therese Diane Villanueva

Dominique Bianca Yap

MGA JUNYOR NA PATNUGOT

JOYCE ANN GARCIA

Junyor na patnugot ng sining

TRISHA

MARIE MATABALAN

Junyor na patnugot ng Tula

ALICIA ANDREA RAMOS

Junyor na Tagapamahala ng Layout

CARLO BAUTISTA

Junyor na Tagapamahala ng Pagmamay-Ari

STUDENT MEDIA OFFICE

Ms. Franz Louise Santos Director

Ms. Jeanne Marie Phyllis tan Coordinator

Ms. Ma. Manuela Agdeppa

Secretary

Francesca Agulto

Mary Jenwil Basila

Patrishia Benedicto

Jolani Carla Cartalla

Claire Madison Chua

Juliah Faye Dela Vega

Andrei Fuentebella

Trisha Marie Matabalan

Mikaela Ong

Christian Paculanan

Bai Megawati Putri Tambuang

Pauline Sharry Tiu

Angelina Bien Louise Visaya

Juno Pongan

Simona Marie Javier

Pablo Mulawin Casanova

Eliana Angela Fabia

Adair Nevan Holgado

Chayanne Max Macalos

Ines Margarita Padilla

Julianna Andrea Villarosa

PROSA

Carlo Bautista

Mari Samantha Bersaldo

Kristen Abygail Campos

Sophia June Ng

Alliyah Vanessa Provido

MARKETING AND EVENTS RETRATO

Isabella Alexandra Bernal

Emmanuel Cabangon

Erin Marie Medina

Gabrielle Palmos

Raymund John Sarmiento II

Denise Alyssa Somera

Gwenevie Quiambao Bayaua

Jan Aireen Magcaling

Athena Nicole Cardenas

This House Is On Fire

Erin Marie Medina

kamukha mo si paraluman

Uriel Anne Bumanlag

Ana Gabriela Magno

this flesh is yours just as much as it’s mine digital art

Francesca Caeli Agulto

Don’t be a Manic Pixie Dream Girl

“You’re not like other girls.”

He complimented my thrifted dresses and cheap headphones. Rivermaya faded like it came from a Jeepney radio, it was just better. Better meant they fit his indie superiority complex. Better takes him to the record store despite Spotify existing. I’m not like other girls, I’m better.

I choose being better over myself

Better had his hand holding mine Calloused, bruised, but held.

Better sold my soul to Rom-Com scripts. Desperate writers’ words a manual I’d follow to keep being held.

Strumming Balisong, his favorite. Seven chords repeating as my fingers start to bleed All for him to give me bandages after.

My hand a mishmash of tan, white, and blue. I didn’t even like the guitar. I just liked playing with him.

Sliding down stairways of heritage homes. Crashing and laughing at bruises. Running from the guards.

Quoting Nietzsche’s meaning of life

As I trace every purple mark on his skin

Insisting that pain makes us profound.

Profound, but not better.

I traded my humanity to be a fantasy

A watered-down Zooey Deschanel.

Realizing I can get sick of dancing in the rain

Burning with a fever, bedridden alone. My bandaged hand the only thing accompanying me.

“You’re not the girl I used to know.”

He told me when my hair dye started to fade Roots damaged, the constant bleaching didn’t make it better. Better was an act I wanted to stop playing. Better was a concept for his attention. Better never even existed.

Kristen “Winsoar” Campos

Have You Ever Heard Her...

H

ush. Do you hear that? A lonely tune in the wind. Low melancholic hum of a river. Can you hear it? Tell me… Have you ever heard Her sing a lullaby? Low and gentle. Bellows with the foundations beneath. Sighs with pity and despondency. Then, continues with Her chorus. Did you not know? There is a voice languishing over the horizon. Mounds of dirt and stone repeat its cry. A refrain cradling Her rotund womb. Siege of storms brewing behind Her spine. Endless passing of the tides. The rising warmth of an inhale. The release of a cold exhale…

That sudden wince of sorrow. Have you felt it? A whimper escaping from Her breast. Intense undulating that disturbs the water. Eternal itch scratching against the soil. Stubbornness while being pulled by the limbs. A forced pry from Her bed. A formidable wall of rock and earth. Do you not believe it? Her spine is bent but unwavering. Enduring calamity and ignorance. Only to preserve Her immeasurable offspring. Whose ears cannot hear Her. Does it not confuse you? How Her melodic mourning has no receiver? Desperate to lull

the incubus to sleep. Wailing only to be shunned again. A composition made for the half deaf…

Can you hear Her now? A lament for the missing dead. Denial of Her molested womb. Loss of security for Her Spine. Does it not reach you? The sudden spike of parching fever. Heavy downpour of perspiration. Dryness of the basin mouth. Foul breeze of dying breath. Forever altogether haunting companions. An agony from the depths below. An aria that vibrates and awakens the asleep. Do you happen to be impaired? Or do your senses deceive you? She calls but there is no answer. While you only wait and wander. Whatever remained of your consciousness. You only allow your own undoing. Missing the escape to Her inevitable fate. The day of Her untimely decay and separation. The hour She labors into eternal bleeding. The moment you will not hear Her song has ended…

NEXT YEAR

Ana Gabriela Magno

TRIGGER WARNING: ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, SUBSTANCE ABUSE FADE IN

INT. CORRIN’S HOUSE, BEDROOM - EVENING

It is CORRIN’s last time sleeping in her own bedroom before she’ll be admitted to the psych ward the following day for an indefinite amount of time.

She sits there staring at the bare wall across her, memorizing every detail and crack on the cement she spent most of her time surrounded by in isolation. Those wretched four walls. Her phone buzzes. She glances at the nightstand in annoyance.

CORRIN (Muttering to herself)

God, I thought I put the damn thing on airplane mode. Who the fuck is trying to speak to me this time?

CORRIN picks up her phone and taps the notification. It’s her penpal TERRA. The text is as follows: “Do you want to call right now?”

CORRIN taps on the call button. TERRA picks up.

TERRA Hey!

CORRIN

Hello.

TERRA knits her eyebrows.

TERRA

I can practically hear you frowning through the phone, you know.

CORRIN

Should I be fucking laughing and smiling right now and start acting like you just said the funniest joke in the world to me? Like, given the circumstances?

TERRA pauses briefly, eyes wide and taken aback. She sighs.

TERRA

Whoa, Jesus Christ, I guess not.

CORRIN doesn’t say anything. TERRA decides she should be the one to speak.

TERRA

Well, anyway, I just wanted to wish you good luck and, you know, say goodbye and all that stuff.

CORRIN

You make it sound like I’m dying.

TERRA

You literally almost did.

CORRIN scratches her head.

CORRIN

Anyway, what was it you wanted to say? I haven’t got all evening.

TERRA

Just… yeah. I didn’t really think this one through, huh. I’ll miss you a lot. You’re a big part of me. Of my life. Of my heart. I hope it helps you. When will you be back?

CORRIN is hesitant.

CORRIN

I don’t know. In a few months. Could be more than that. Maybe next year, even.

TERRA laughs bitterly.

TERRA

Dumbass, why did you go and have to do that?

CORRIN frowns.

CORRIN

Do what? Try to kill myself?

TERRA

You know that’s not what I meant.

CORRIN

That’s exactly what you meant.

TERRA

Fine. If that’s what you want to think, go ahead.

CORRIN

You act like I had any control over it.

TERRA

I mean, between you and me, who was shoving pills down her throat?

CORRIN

You make it sound like you wanted me dead in the first place.

TERRA

I figured you would have learned to deal with my honesty by now.

CORRIN

Not like this, no.

Silence.

CORRIN

You know what? I don’t think I can ignore the truth anymore. This shit just keeps going in circles. Yeah. I’ll be honest with you. I wanted to end my life. Genuinely. The knife in my chest just

kept twisting itself more and more. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I just wish you were there for me. I don’t think I would have tried it if you were.

TERRA

You could have talked to me.

CORRIN

…I don’t know.

TERRA

Seriously? What do you fucking mean you don’t know?

CORRIN doesn’t say anything.

TERRA

God, I don’t know what to do with you.

More silence.

TERRA

What time are you leaving?

CORRIN

Six in the morning.

TERRA

I’ll always be thinking about you.

CORRIN

I know. I don’t know. Well.

TERRA

Enough of this “I know but I don’t know” shit. It’ll never end. Goodbye.

TERRA hangs up. CORRIN clutches her phone tightly, shaking. She throws it on the bed and lets her head fall into her hands. FADE

It comes out as vomit: tearless sludge scratching my throat. I don’t even flinch from the smell that condemns our kitchen sink. I

don’t even think of the mop and the rags and the bucket you thought to kick. Pig’s blood and bone broth spill over yesterday’s groceries.

(Move away.)

I don’t even think of the toothpaste and the irritation. I don’t even flinch from the water that floods our bathroom sink. I

come out as holy. That when I am muck and yolk and blood and broth and mop and brush, that when I am all that I can think to be-

I will still taste clean.”

“If I kill you, it cannot be my fault

Juno Pongan

one

digital art

day, we will finally be well

Gwenevie Quiambao Bayaua

Trisha Matabalan

Zeus

1.

Man amongst men; The truth does not hold weight against the palms that wield the crackle of thunder, the static of lightning, the agonies of the sky.

2. Ruler amongst rulers; Light around his fingers, power on his tongue. A man always knows when to strike.

Iron in the blood between your thighs, and he always knows where his hands must go: underneath, over, through.

Sex is everything, and everything is sex. To conquer is to keep what you own— entangled, ensnared, (“entranced,” he corrects)—

Kept, for his eyes only. There will always be another woman, another wife, another wile— tittering birds and a peacock feather hanging on the mantle.

3. Rapist among rapists

You will never be in control of your own fate

A girl in a god’s world is nothing; You know this.

If you are angry, you hide it behind your teeth, ozone crackling like pop rocks in your mouth, and if you must say it, then say it, but— but not yet.

4. (Not yet—

The wind is piercing cold when you raise your arms, your head, your voice. There’s no chance of taking flight in this storm. Not yet—

When you plead, you keep your head down, so you don’t see who comes at your call in the haze of this downpour. The oracles speak in languages you can’t decipher.

Your tongue acquaints itself with begging when you lose favor. Not yet— The flesh can only be pardoned if it’s clean. If there’s nothing left, what do you do? What do you have? Not yet—)

5.

It does not matter that his mouth is stained with ichor, that even gods themselves have been taught how to unlearn their spines in his presence, or that the mound of warm bodies of which he has made his throne is never questioned

6. Still— even the clamor of thunder won’t be loud enough to silence all of us.

Gwenevie

Quiambao Bayaua I dream of you

digital art

Lauren Angela Chua

Galaw

Galaw ga·láw png

1: [Pan Tag] kílos

2: masining na pagkilos o pagganap ng isang artista kung umaawit, nagsasayaw, o nagsasalita

3: paghawak o paghipo na hindi kailangan : LIKÓT4

4: [Pan Tag] birò1

5: Kol umít

6: pagkakaroon ng seksuwal na karanasan — pnr na·ga·láw — pnd ga·la·wín, gu·ma·láw.

— diksiyonaryo.ph

Hindi kalaboso ang ganitong tagpo para sa nauuhaw na gámit ang lakas ng kanyang kamay, pinisil ang baywang, inilapat sa lábi ang nalalabíng kamusmusan upang ibsan ang nanunuyong loob.

Kailan pa naging pamatid-uhaw ang katawang nagpupumiglas?

Ginalaw, Nagalaw,

Nilangaw ang pagpalahaw ng gahasa

‘pagkat nasilid sa mga pantig ng paggalaw.

Hindi baso ang ginalaw, para ikampay at ipagdiwang.

Bakit hindi kasingsidhi ng pagdiriwang ang pagkasuklam?

Binabalot ng katahimikang

kakampi ng napiping saksi.

Sipi mula sa

Ang Madugong Pakikipagsapalaran nila

Darna, Dysebel, at Zsazsa Zaturnnah

Ina Abuan

Fade In:

Ang Galit ni Darna

Seq. 1: Int. Mula sa kwarto ni Narda. Day. Nakikita mula sa bintana ang kasisikat na araw. Sumasayaw ang kurtina sa ugoy ng hangin. Naririnig mula sa labas ng bahay ang tilaok ng manok at ang huni ng mga ibon. Maaliwalas ang lahat.

Makikita ang kama ni Nardang gulu-gulo. Gusot na gusot ang kumot at makikita si Nardang lumuluha. Umiiyak at namimilipit sa sakit. Balot ng puting kumot makikitang may malaking mantsa ng dugo sa kaniyang puwetan.

Dumadaing sa sakit. Walang kalakas-lakas niyang inuungol ang pangalan ng kaniyang Lola Asay.

Narda

Lola... Lola... Lola... Masakit...

Seq. 2: Int. Bahay ni Narda. Day.

Bigla-biglang papasok nang puno ng galak ang kaniyang lolang naka-daster, may rolers pa ang buhok, at may hawak-hawak sa kaniyang kanang kamay na sandok.

Lola Asay

Narda, apo, gising na! Nagluto ako ng paborito mong ulam, tortang talong! Dumaan kasi si Marlyn kaninang umaga at binentahan ako ng bagong pitas niyang mga gulay! Dali na bago pa...

Matitigilan ang matanda. Magugulat sa makikita niyang nakahandusay at namimilipit sa kamang si Narda. Dali-dali niyang lalapitan ang apo.

Lola Asay

Apo! Ano’ng nangyari sa’yo? Saklolo, mga kapitbahay!

Darna! Darna! Kailangan namin ng tulong mo! Darnaaa!

‘Asan ka ngayong kailangang-kailangan ka namin?

Biglang mapapamulat ang luhaang si Narda. Magkakaroon ng konting lakas para sagutin ang kaniyang lola.

Narda

‘La... Ano ba? ‘Wag kang OA, please. Masakit.

Pagsagot, sabay tatalikuran niya ang kaniyang lola para mag-fetal position.

Mahihimasmasan sandali ang matanda, pero babalik uli sa pagiging histerikal nang pagtalikod sa kaniya ni Narda ay makikita ang mantsa ng dugo sa kumot.

Manlalaki ang mata at sabay dudungaw sa bintana at magsisisigaw.

Lola Asay

Saklolo, mga kapit-bahay, may nang ano sa apo ko! Si Darna! Tawagin si Darna! Hindi niya ako naririnig!

DARNAAA!

Mapipilitang bumangon si Narda mula sa pagkakahiga. Gagamitin ang natitirang lakas para suwayin ang lola. Hirap pa ‘ring gumalaw at magsalita.

Narda

Lola! Tumigil nga po kayo sa kasisigaw. ‘Wag kayong OA. Please! Ako si Darna!

Mahihimasmasan nang tuluyan ang matanda nang makitang nakaupo sa kama si Narda.

Lola Asay

Ay! Oo nga pala, apo! Ikaw nga pala si Darna. Pasensiya ka na. Bakit ka may dugo? Ano’ng nangyari?

Mangiyak-ngiyak na lalapitan ang apo at uupo sa gilid ng kama. Yayakapin ang apo na tila hindi nakita ng ilang buwan.

Narda

Aray, Lola!

Lola Asay

Ay, sori. Ano’ng nangyari sa’yo? Bakit may dugo?

Aalisin ni Narda ang kumot at ipakikita ang dugo sa bandang gitna ng kaniyang dilaw na pajama.

Lola Asay

Susmaryosep ka naman, apo! Akala ko kung napano ka na. Akala ko naman pinagsakluban na ako ng langit at lupa! Regla. Regla lang naman pala, e!

Narda

Regla nga po, Lola. Pero bakit masakit? Ano’ng gagawin ko? Bakit ang sakit-sakit ng puson ko?

Lola Asay

Natural lang ‘yan. Ganyan talaga kapag dinaratnan ang mga babae. Sumasakit ang puson. ‘Yaan mo...

Maiiwang nakatanga si Narda habang papalabas ang kaniyang lola na hindi man lang tinapos ang kaniyang sinasabi.

Seq. 3: Int. Bahay ni Narda. sa Kusina. Day.

Dali-daling kukuha ng lumang bote ng Gatorade ang matanda mula sa ilalim ng lababo. Huhugasan niya nang mabilisan at kukuha ng tubig sa termos. Mapapaso ang matanda at mapapamura. Kukuha nang basahan sa isang drawer at ibabalot ang boteng may mainit na tubig. Pagkatapos, dali-dali siyang babalik sa kwarto ni Nardang nagsasalita, tinatapos ang sinasabi kanina na parang walang nangyari.

Lola Asay

... heto o. (Iaabot ang bote sa apo.) Ipukpok mo sa ulo mo para tumigil ang sakit.

Narda

Talaga, ‘La? Wala po akong lakas, kayo na lang po ang pumukpok sa akin.

Tatalikuran ni Narda ang nakangising matanda.

Lola Asay

O ayan, apo, para maibsan ang sakit ipatong mo sa may puson mo. Mamaya-maya lang bubuti na ang pakiramdam mo. Ganyan talaga.

Uupo sa pagkakahiga si Narda na nakakunot ang noo. Hahawakan ang bote pero bibitiwan kaagad dahil mapapaso.

Narda

Ano nanaman ba ‘to, ‘La? Sinasapian nanaman kayo ni Mang Kepweng e. Wala po bang gamot na lang na pwedeng inumin? Nakakapaso, baka malapnos naman ang balat ko n’yan.

Biglang sisimangutan ni Lola Asay ang apo. Mangingisay ng 3 segundo at biglang sasapian ni SIRIng may British accent.

Lola Asay/British SIRI

Presenting his findings to the Physiological Society’s annual conference, Dr Brian King said: ‘The pain of colic, cystitis and menstrual period pain is caused by a temporary reduction in blood flow to organs, causing local tissue damage and activating pain receptors.

‘The heat doesn’t just provide comfort and have a

placebo effect - it actually deactivates the pain at a molecular level in much the same way as pharmaceutical painkillers work. We have discovered how this molecular process works.’

The researchers used genetic engineering to make heat and pain receptor proteins in the same cell and examined the interaction.

They found that if warmth over 40 degrees Celsius is applied to the skin near to where internal pain is felt, it switches on heat receptors at the site of injury.

These heat receptors in turn block the effect of chemical messengers that cause pain to be detected by the body.

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/ article-394086/Hot-water-bottle-really-does-ease-periodpains.html#ixzz4mOvKAOEw

Pagkatapos iirapan ni Lola Asay ang apo at tatayo sa kama. Pipigilin ni Narda ang matanda.

Narda

Sorry, ‘La. Akin na po ‘yan.

Lola Asay

Kayo talagang mga kabataan ngayon, hindi na marunong makinig sa matatanda. Saka lang kayo makikinig pag may citation sa internet. Dalaga pa lang ako at wala pang internet alam ko na ‘yan, ano.

Iismiran ng matanda si Narda sabay abot sa apo ng bote.

Narda

Pasensiya ka na, ‘La.

Ipapatong ni Narda ang bote sa may puson. Makikita sa mukhang makakaramdam ng konting ginhawa.

Lola Asay

Sige, ipatong mo lang ‘yan d’yan. Pag bumuti-buti na ang pakiramdam mo ay lumabas ka na para makakain ka na ng agahan. Sayang naman ‘yon. Magwawalis lang ako sa may bakuran.

Simona Marie Javier

kare-kare

tatlong tasa. peanut butter sticks. unmoving kahit anong taktak. “hindi ‘yan tasa, kutsara ginamit mo.” okay lang mom, at least i know what’s tinidor. the jar rests emptied after sinimot, kapampangan-made upon your insistence that the taste of home can be carried in its unassuming orange cap, and that betraying our roots would curse our food rotten. oxtail simmers, tender for eager mouths to feast, “igisa ang bawang at sibuyas, para magkalasa ‘yung pagkain natin.”

the sizzling of the pan is reminiscent of days i was cradled to your chest, carried in one arm as you cooked with the other. now i have outgrown you, towering and reaching for cabinets i’ve once tiptoed, waiting for my turn to earn a spot in the space you’ve cultivated your love.

“pagkatapos, pakukuluan ‘yung pechay, sitaw at talong.”, the kusina bustles and overflows, both mother and daughter by the stove; an aroma flows from the kaldero i stir to the kapitbahay next door

“nak, gayahin mo lang recipe ko”, the creation knows its maker it understands that you made me, too

ang ugali natin kapag tumitikim, sinasawsaw ulit ang sandok kahit galing na sa ating bibig. and the way our eyes gleam when the sauce begins to simmer.

once the heat is off, we serve onto waiting plates, sided with freshly cooked rice and a dollop of fermented, salty paste home-made from your biggest kawali, worn with scratches from every delicacy you’ve whipped into existence, no jar from the grocery shelves contented the refined palate of a chef with a lifetime of experience preparing our baon before dawn broke, or curating sunday’s family feast, so you took it upon your own hands to create one from scratch transforming heaps of alamang purchased in bags from the palengke, a sea of flavor, a scent that wafts to every corner of our house.

when we sit at the table the flavor passes down, bite after bite after bite a taste of peanut butter that— sticks, translates care. care.

PASASALAMAT

Nais pasalamatan ng Malate Literary Folio ang mga sumusunod para sa kanilang ibinahaging suporta sa publikasyon at sa mga miyembro nito:

Mga Tagapayo, G. Mesandel Arguelles and G. Vijae Alquisola; Kasangguni, Bb. Ina Abuan; Student Media Office personnel, Bb. Franz Louise Santos, Bb. Jeanne Marie Phyllis Tan, Gng. Ma. Manuela Agdeppa, at ang buong Student Media Office (SMO); Department of Literature, Bienvenido Santos Creative Writing Center (BSCWC), Office of Student Affairs, Health Services Office (Taft), DLSU Bookstore, Council of Student Organizations (CSO), Office of the Legal Counsel, Finance and Accounting Office, Security Office, at ang Student Discipline Formation Office; Ang Pahayagang Plaridel, Archers Network, Green Giant FM, Green & White, The LaSallian, at ang buong Student Media Council.

Higit sa lahat, pinasasalamatan ng Malate Literary Folio ang mga kasalukuyan at mga naging kasapi ng organisasyon, na naging daan upang hubugin at linagin ang Malate Literary Folio sa kung ano ito ngayon at kung ano pa ang mga tatahakin nito sa hinaharap.