Periscope 2016

Page 1

PERISCOPE



PERISCOPE VOLUME 3



PROLOGUE “Every time we get what we thought we wanted we realize that we want more.”

It is but man’s nature to crave for more. But it is the same greed, the same craving that makes you full of what you are looking for. You desire for nourishment beyond what your physical body call for. We unceasingly continue to explore what the world can offer us but despite its best efforts, our yearning is still not satisfied. We persist on looking for perfection and just end up not finding it even though it is just right in front of our very eyes. Our hunger and thirst is not anymore limited to the physical need but it goes beyond other dimensions, to realms that are yet to be disclosed. This may be the very reason why looking for your purpose in life begs the question as to whether it is just your hunger or thirst that you should satisfy or you should also help others descry what will fill their emptiness and eventually espy a glimpse on their own life niche.

Framing ourselves on our very own limitations is also the very reason why we continue to look for things that are unfathomable. Breaking this walls that restrict us is one step on discovering those that will complete us. Notwithstanding the smiles on our faces, there is something inside of us, in the very core of our being human that is still devoid and waiting to be filled. May the words and visuals in this bundled group of papers stained with ink and drizzled by our desire to quench our own thirst, in one way or another bestow the essentials and help in furnishing your needs. Quench thy thirst and feed the hunger.

. Editor-in-Chief


12 A Piece of a Make-Up Anatomy AIMEE JANE D. URETA

13 Dove

JELLIE F. DIONELA

15 Sa Pagbunok it Uean JEMUEL B. GARCIA III

16 Dire

AIMEE JANE D. URETA

Fiat Lux AIMEE JANE D. URETA

17 Burning Brows

POETRY

GEMMA S. NALANGAN

18 Sleep

BLINDFOLD

20 Round Corner

JEMUEL B. GARCIA III

21 Chokolat

JHON BREX B. BRIONES

22 Exaggeration of Regrets JHON BREX B. BRIONES

23 Fernweh

BLINDFOLD

24 Komorebi

BLINDFOLD


24 Aware

38 Hallow

25 Iktsuarpok

39 Needles

27 Misery

42 Worth

BLINDFOLD

BLINDFOLD

JOLLY E. LAURIANO

Fiat Lux JULIE ANN JOY R. JARQUIO

Drought JOLLY E. LAURIANO

PARIAH

AIMEE JANE D. URETA

RAPHAEL JERICHO E. MAGALIT

43 Deception

RAPHAEL JERICHO E. MAGALIT

44 Non-Believer

RAPHAEL JERICHO E. MAGALIT

28 Gone

45 Batulang

29 Hidden Outburst

47 Hapag

30 Princess of Nile

48 Pangayo

32 How Do Poets Count

49 Duhat

JULIE ANN JOY R. JARQUIO

GEMMA S. NALANGAN

JOLLY E. LAURIANO

MARY ELDERLINE MAMBURAM

AIMEE JANE D. URETA

JOHN BREX B. BRIONES

KINGSLEY SHAKLEBOLT

JOHN BREX B. BRIONES

33 Infinity

Alipáeok

36 Anorexia

Paraiso

MARY ELDERLINE MAMBURAM

JHON BREX B. BRIONES

37 Dragon’s Eyes

ALROM CHRISTIAN P. RECAFUENTE

JEMUEL B. GARCIA III

KINGSLEY SHAKLEBOLT

50 Aeáay

JEMUEL B. GARCIA III


50 Abรกe

BLINDFOLD

Akรกe-akรกe LUECIA

51 Parched

JEMUEL B. GARCIA III

54 Eabi Sa Tanan

JEMUEL B. GARCIA III


56 Linda

FLASH FICTION

JOHN BREX B. BRIONES

57 Fishball

JEMUEL B. GARCIA III

60 The Flight

JOHN BREX B. BRIONES

62 The Note

SHORT STORY

AIMEE JANE D. URETA


Photography by Mark Q. Maagma


POETRY


AIMEE JANE D. URETA

Do I look alright when I put a powder on my face? Do my pale skin looks beautiful, when I blushed it on? Do my bruise-like colored lips look fascinating, When I applied lip tint on it? Oh! Do I forgot to put my mascara To give life to my puffed, teary eyes? Shall I put eyeliners too? To hinder the tears I stopped to fall? What else do I have to apply? For me to look good and alright? Pretty looks, pretty lies That cover things I want to hide.

[ 12 ]


JELLIE F. DIONELA

I want to have freedom Like other birds do have above I want to have wisdom That will be eternally mine. For so long these things I really wanted I don’t know when and how it will be granted For I am a dove That our God Almighty have created.

[ 13 ]


Love begins with an image; lust with a sensation. MASON COOLEY

Photography by JBG


JEMUEL B. GARCIA III

Nagdueom do palibot Naghangos do hangin

May nagapaabot Masubo ng baeatyagon Do eangit nagatangis Sa kasubo nagatiis-tiis Pareho ko akon nga tagipusuon Nga kimo hay nagahambaeanon Kung pwede eang kunta Kimo hay akong ipabatyag Do akong kasubo Kaangay it euha it eangit nga nagatueo Kunta masadya ka kung siin ka makaron Bisan ako hay hara, nagakasubo Daya eang gid ang kimo hay hambaeon Sa pagbunok it uean, ikaw do ang ginapanumdom.

[ 15 ]


AIMEE JANE URETA Malevolent minds Crude actions

Conspicuous thoughts Inexorable will Casts over the world So true and just Is sinking because of sin Pain is reigning

Justice is missing This generation might be leading A life so wily and dire.

AIMEE JANE URETA For those who weep Those who are weak For those who can’t see For those who didn’t believe. -Let there be light!

[ 16 ]


GEMMA S. NALANGAN

Sometimes I wanted to give up Things that might set me on top I wanted to forget what the reasons are Why I am here to gain that bacon Yeah, it’s really hard to have the guts

One thing that I almost forgot For every night I tried not to act Like a lost kitten from her mother cat As others sleep tight, I can’t help but cry I miss the people, of many reasons why

I am here burning my thick brows tonight To have high grades, of which I think is right By the time the sun rose and shined bright I have a new challenge, another day to face All these hindrances that block my path For certain will lead us to a bright future.

[ 17 ]


BLINDFOLDED

Tis so sweet to hear thy whisper, As you come near to my longing ears. Oh how warm, your comforting caress, For which a moment takes away my fears. You, who are sought by the weary, To the dying, you are wished dear. You may pass, and at a time go. But for some you are welcomed, not with a smile but with tears.

[ 18 ]


Don’t be someone that searches, finds, and then runs away. PAULO COELHO

Photography by Mark Q. Maagma


JEMUEL B. GARCIA III

The stars glisten In the dark, calm skies While the whisp Of cold breeze blows by Through the silence of the night I cry in tears For I am alone, hoping For you to be near Impossible it may seem, I still see the two of us together Not in a cold, lonely place But in my heart’s round corner.

[ 20 ]


JOHN BREX B. BRIONES You melts in my Mouth— You velvet one. When was the

Last time You had tempted me— To devour you Whole? Come— Melt on my hand

Tear up your foil. Send me back— To heaven.

[ 21 ]


JOHN BREX B. BRIONES

He stepped outside (man, he was sure that everything he had left will be remembered someday as a part of him he’d lost and that the pain in his chest now will be lingering as a hallow space a cold, empty shell, a hanging heart and his tears will then again reach him through his head. But not of pain, but hatred. hatred of his choice, his faults and his lost, shameless courage. A noisy coin inside his hollowed chest.) and walked away.

[ 22 ]


BLINDFOLD Of wildest dreams, too brave to bear I am here, but I am there. ; A dungeon of dragons, an abyss of peace I am here, but I am there. Why do I long for a place I’ve never been? I am here, but I am there. I am here, but are you there?

[ 23 ]


BLINDFOLD In the middle, I stand still An ocean of trees, a seabed of bushes. The sun peeks through the branches, It warms my skin, but not my cold heart. I still long for you return.

BLINDFOLD

I wish I could bring back time, I wish I could feel the warmth of your hands in mine, All those sunsets that we have shared All those moments played like none of us cared, I still thirst for your kisses. I still crave for your love.

[ 24 ]


BLINDFOLD

We promised each other eternal love A joyful family, a house on a tree-top. She promised me an everlasting friendship A shoulder to cry on, a bestfriend to cling to. Both uttered promises. Both said that they will come. In the train station, alone on the bench I waited, She came but you did not.

[ 25 ]


Nothing haunts us like the things we don’t say. MITCH ALBOM

Photography by Mark Q. Maagma


JOLLY E. LAURIANO If my heart withers Even in the break of rain It could have been torn

JULIE ANN JOY R. JARQUIO Little plan slipped through a big tree Stand amazed amidst of being free Crouched to skip bitter punch fee Juices freshness extract to see.

JOLLY E. LAURIANO A tattered fox howls Amidst the scorched environs

Starves itself to death

[ 27 ]


JULIE ANN JOY R. JARQUIO

Balloons pop and shattered into pieces Papers burned and turned into ashes Rocks broke and blown into dusts Metals weakened and invade by rusts Elements can be poisonous Sometimes makes life precious Some things made to be notorious And some made to be safe and not dangerous Leaves fell and intend to dry And human's life destined to die No one knows that his time's done But memories stayed even though he's gone.

[ 28 ]


GEMMA S. NALANGAN

His undeniable anger struck his cold heart His bad blood ran through his veins Up and up, until it went to his brain Controlling his actions to yell and scream His eyes glared as he stared like a blade Assuming that the opponent‘s body will bleed He doesn‘t need any form of sympathy He doesn‘t want followers who do not know how to obey Suddenly, someone in an armor came Trying to make everything fine as it would seem He even used His power to heal him His hidden outburst felt like a mistake He is God, He who never fails to create Simple but meaningful acts to stir your faith. He‘s the reason. He makes you keep calm. And never will He let your anger out of you run.

[ 29 ]


JOLLY E. LAURIANO

A lady so glam and fab Spells elegance in every inch Of curves and edges that are damn deadly Scents of Victoria‘s Secret she struts Of velvety hair that bugs can glide Immaculate aura she radiates Loveliness like that of Aphrodite‘s Vibe she exudes so ethereal On her most coveted throne she sits As a horde of men surround her All have equally enticing physique and face Offering her the two-halves of their hearts Pleading for her sweet submission With vows and pledges as great as Mount Olympus

[ 30 ]


Much to her innocence

These men are seasoned beasts In the image of Bradd Pitt And Leonardo De Caprio They tame and deceive her synchronously Break her heart into smallest bits and pieces A sad fate indeed

Sadder than Rose‘s fate in Titanic Not only her heart sinks In the depth of bereavement Much as her heart grieves Her whole being also does As she marches the length of an endless river In hopes to quench her searing thirst Thirst for pure love and affection As pure as water from heaven While her soul wanders and goes astray She wails as she witness the catastrophic sight Of Nile River dehydrated as hell.

[ 31 ]


MARY ELDERLINE MAMBURAM How do poets count? Poets count in syllables and lines Instead of sheeps. The haiku seventeen The sonnet fourteen. But in love, they count how many ways thee And not the pocket‘s conquest I learned to count thru my mom‘s song Poems thru my grandmother‘s recitation before I sleep

And when I fall in love, I count the heartbeats The minutes we gaze at each other That melts like ice cream And If I see tomorrow with him.

Love as the poet loveth.

[ 32 ]


MARY ELDERLINE MAMBURAM

When it always almost touches zero But never once and never will When our eyes gaze straight at each other I melted like eyes

But not allowing energy to flow That is infinity. We are almost there but never arrived When you kissed me But never acknowledge the meaning. Our soul yearns for each other But our bodies point to a different direction When I dream a thousand dreams And woke up in that dream To a reality That is infinity Never touches forever. Infinity‌ Infinity. Catching my breath‌

[ 33 ]


And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it. PAOLO COELHO

The Alchemist


Photography by JBG


JOHN BREX B. BRIONES

Waistline‘s 24 And oh you‘re so fat! That limbs like sticks Are weighing tons—

More like a heavy log. That three spoons of rice Are full meal—too much. Puke that, oh girl! Vomit till the last! Guilty of cheese Shame on the bacon? Just grab that biscuit— Sugar-free. Pin your clothes, size 0 Oh, still like an elephant For me.

[ 36 ]


ALROM CHRISTIAN P. RECAFUENTE

In the eyes of the dragon, I see its burning passion And hunger for trophies. It will unleash its furies. It will fly high Up to the sky And searching for its prey In a competition today.

With its hunger for victory, The dragon‘s victim will see Its fire blowing out From its mouth.

As I confront the dragon And it sees my burning passion, It didn‘t burn me to ashes

Because it knows the power that I possess. The dragon and I fused together And combined our powers. Now, the people see The dragon in me.

[ 37 ]


PARIAH

Close your eyes and grasp the emptiness of your core. feel the wind

among your limbs caressing your naked skin breath-in that boreal air that knifed your dry, thirsty throat lick those lips to dry for biting probe your senses among flaccid bones take the nirvana that sinful drug the zenith of luxury stars and darkness of an empty night— welcome to the sky.

[ 38 ]


AIMEE JANE D. URETA

I saw myself crawling in the dark Hoping for a light to come in my life I count my days out of my fingers Nut all I see are those needles. I bury my days though it‘s not yet over I forget my memories because there‘s no forever I erased my dreams for it won‘t cover The facts seen behind those needles. I see my end, my last chapter As I wrote this poem behind the laughter I hid my pain yet please remember The smile I drawn with these needles.

[ 39 ]


Why are always seeking outside when the box of answers are stored beneath our ribs? JUDI K. BEACH

From the poem Seeking


Photography by Mark Q. Maagma


RAPHAEL JERICHO E. MAGALIT

He told himself he would never feel again; He ran away from the fire, the smoldering embers of the flesh; Pain blooms like summer flowers inside him;

Doubt creeps around, suffocating, intoxicating belladonna; He stopped running; He stood still; He thrived, still thriving; He is happy.

[ 42 ]


RAPHAEL JERICHO E. MAGALIT

Didn‘t even need water to feel I am drowning; Cold. White hot burning cold, I can't breathe; Crystal razors run through my body; They are beautiful, they are painful, I am bleeding; My blood runs thick with your well thought lies; I knew, you knew, we both knew; The scent of copper is overwhelming – sweet and cloying; I grow weary, I am floating…floating; There is a spark. I see it, I go to it; I reach it. Almost there; Sweet oblivion.

[ 43 ]


RAPHAEL JERICHO E. MAGALIT

Lips so slayed; Full coverage; Brows on fleek; Conceal;

Highlight; Contour; Fuller, bolder; Thinner, blonder; Longer, higher; We never saw the real you; You were always a masterpiece; We never understood why you shrouded yourself; You were always a non-believer; Never believed anyone; Never believed yourself; A beautiful mask; Enamored with destruction.

[ 44 ]


AIMEE JANE D. URETA

Talos niya ang bawat hapdi at pighati Tanging siya lang ang nakababatid Kompromiso ng kaniyang mahal pinigtal Kaya‘t siya ngayo‘y na sa isang batulang. Batulang na nagpalugmok sa lungkot Kompanyero‘y malulungkot na musika Batulang lumunod sa kaniya sa luha Na bugso ng pagnanais makadulot-kagantihan. Sukdulang sakit at galit ang siyang dahilan Kung bakit gamos sa katauhan niya‘y lumala Ni dangal ay hindi na natira Sa pagnanais na masingil taksil na kasintahan. Batulang siyang ang kaniyang kapiling Sa kanya‘y unti-unting papatay din. Batulang pinasok sapagkat umiibig Sinunog ng kataksilan, poot at ganti.

[ 45 ]


Hunger easily makes thief out of every man. PEARL S. BUCK

Photography by JBG


JOHN BREX B. BRIONES Kung ba ang ulam nati‘y katulad din ng sa kahapon (Yung piniritong isdang napulot lang sa kanto sa palengke, Na tinapon ng mga mapag-aksayang tindera) May karapatan ba akong humindi? Kung ba sa isang dakop ng kani‘y tatlo kaming maghahati (At ni wala nga akong umagahan kanina‘t Pagod pa sa isang maghapong kabibilad sa sikat ng araw) Ay nararapat na akong maging makasarili? Kung minsan ba ang mga langgam (na namimyesta sa mga mumo na kumakalat Sa hapag, hulog mula sa pawising mga kamay) Ay nakakaintindi ring magparaya? Ako bang sa hapag ay halos umiyak na (sa pangaraw-araw na iksena ng kakulangan At balyahan, makaagaw lang ng ulam) Ay pwede bang sumpain na lamang ang buhay?

Kapag ba ang tulad kong mahirap, na sakdal-lupa ang buhay Kupapit sa patalim, makahain lang ng pagkain sa hapag, Ay mapapatawad ng mga nahahabag?

[ 47 ]


KINGSLEY SHAKLEBOLT Pangayo it suea Kat sinaing nga sunog Kat dukot nga habilin Kat sabaw nga mabahaw Paskin kat mumo Nga natagak sa saeog O kat bahog sa baboy Sa inyong banggerahan Kat kalooy bga sangkiri Pagbatyag nga hauyang Pag abi-abi nga keang Pagpalangga nga nalipatan.

[ 48 ]


JOHN BREX B. BRIONES Nagapueoea Ding bibig sa katamis Kanamiton gid!

JEMUEL B. GARCIA III Nagabaga-baga Sa kainit naghalin Naduea sa hangin.

KINGSLEY SHAKLEBOLT Patay sindi ro Puea’t dueaw nga iwag

Kuta’t mga uhaw.

[ 49 ]


JEMUEL B. GARCIA III Wa git it dawi Nagob eon naka-uli Malimpyong pinggan.

BLINDFOLD Piso eang gid da Pambakae kunta’t asin Di makasarang.

LUECIA Ro atong kaldero Do tubi gaawas eon Mayad may tinug-on.

[ 50 ]


JEMUEL GARCIA III Alone here. Looking for light. Gasping for air. Slowly crawling. Not even a hint. Not even a drop. Not even a scent.

I felt lighter.

Still crawling. Now I am standing, walking. Suddenly, I felt cold.

I see the door. I feel warmth.

No more pain.

I looked back.

No more thirst. No more hunger. But still, I am crawling.

There I was, lying. Still trying. Still crawling. But here I am. I no more thirst. But I am still parched.

[ 51 ]



To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves. FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA

Photography by Mark Q. Maagma


JEMUEL B. GARCIA III Sa pagbutlak it adlaw Hasta sa anang pagpanaw Ikaw eang ang gusto nga makita Paghalin sa baeay Bisan sa bike nakasay Ikaw eang do ang napaminsar

Sa ibabaw’t kabukiran Maskin sa kadagatan

Gusto ko nga masayran mo

Ikaw eang gustong makaibahan

Nga ikaw eang ginapalangga ko Kimo, eabi sa tanan, gustong ipabatyag

Bisan siin makaabot

kasadyang indi matupungan

Bisan do iba wa kaeubot Bisan ikaw magmulianon

Sa init it kaeayo

Bisan kita magueang eon

Eamig it hanging nagabayo Ikaw eang gustong kakupkop

Uwa eon it usuyon Tanan una kimo eon Ikaw, ako kita eang gid Sa tanan nga bayi

Ikaw hay pinaeabi Ikaw, ako hasta’t katapusan.

[ 54 ]


FLASH FICTION


JOHN BREX B. BRIONES

Alas-dos ng hapon, sa harap ng bahay ni Mareng Silya. Tatlong babaeng nakabestida‘t kanya-kanyang pay-pay ng mga abaniko nilang tanan. Ang reyna: si Linda, putak ng putak, ―Nabuntis daw si ano…‖, ―Aswang yung si…‖, ―Si ano raw may kabit.‖ at marami pang iba. Mga kwentong napulot sa kalye, dinagdagan, binawasa. Mga inahing uhaw sa buhay ng iba. Pakialam kung ‗di totoo, ―Hindi, totoo talaga iyon, totoong-totoo!‖

Alas-

dos ng hapon, tatlong araw ang nakalipas, si Silya, si Nilda. Nasaan si Linda? Nandoon, sinusugod ang nabuntis na kabit ng asawa niyang mukhang aswang.

[ 56 ]


JEMUEL B. GARCIA III

Maingay na tunog ng mga nag-uunahang mga sasakyan. Nagsisiksikang mga estudyante sa estanteng nasa tabi ng daan. Siya si Maverick. Nakatayo habang kumakain ng isang tuhog ng fishball. Mainit. Masarap. Nandito ako sa kabilang bahagi ng kalye, nakatitig sa kaniya. Nagliliwaliw ang isip na tila ba ilang milya ang layo namin sa isa‘t isa. Nakita niya ako at kami‘y nagkatitigan. Bigla siyang sumigaw ngunit hindi ko naintindihan. Tumigil ang oras. Liwanag ng araw ang siyang bumubulag sa aking mga mata. Mga matang siyang huling nakasulyap sa kaniyang mukha. Pilit niya akong ginigising habang siya‘s umiiyak. Pero wala na. Salamat sa huling alaala.

[ 57 ]


When writing about oneself, one must strive to be truthful. Truth is more important than modesty. PAULO COELHO


Photography by Mark Q. Maagma


JOHN BREX B. BRIONES

She breathes in the frigid air that slaps her sullen face. Closed her eyes and feel the roughness of the baluster that serves as her final safety net towards her flight. She breathe in some more memories of her broken past and lost future, feel the tears that cascades down her cheeks. She opens her eyes and welcomed the sun rays that pass through the heavy storm clouds. She took her final moments, and took her last flight. Rain poured, and washed the blood of her last option.

[ 60 ]


SHORT STORY


AIMEE JANE D. URETA She‘s there in a corner. Silently crying as she hugged her pillow, remembering the old days when she can still hold on. Old days that she

reminisced so vividly ‗til the last drop of her tears fell on a piece of a broken mirror. Two days before… She walked eight kilometers to go to her school. This she does as she usually have been doing for the past years. She walks with her tattered shoes and faded school uniform together with her bottle of boiled water and old bag. She tries her best to smile as she would face another day; a day of survival. She spent her days laughing with her friends but sometimes alone. And there, another day was done. She walked home and got some rest after a very tiring day. While walking, she began to cry. She poured out all her

emotions through her tears. Tired of having nothing and keeping everything on her own, her tears seemed to flow out unceasingly. After a few hours, she finally arrived home. And what did she find upon stepping inside their aging and dilapidated house – her parents quarrelling over money. Her mother would again tell her about how worthless of a child she is and how unhelpful she is to the family. She would usually just burry these words within her, turning each letter, each word, into hatred. Hatred into anger. Anger to self-pity.

[ 62 ]


She walked to her room and locked the door. She diverted her attention by doing her homework, soothing her senses with her favourite playlist and reading another chapter on her favorite novel. She did everything to seclude herself from the world she used to be in. She wanted cry but she can‘t. It seems that she dried up her eyes. The next day, she arrived at school posed with another set of problem – projects, incomplete grades and financial constraints. She tried to look for money but didn‘t find any, not even a penny. What she only have is a bottle of water. What can she do with that? What would she do if she did not have

any? She went home crying, again. Her mother told her not to go to school anymore. Her father never said a word. She thought as to whether she could still continue her schooling. Everything came into her in a flashback – the eight kilometres she had to walk every day for almost four years, penniless pockets, empty stomach, sleepless nights, and hardships. She‘s tired. She lost her smile, not even her best efforts would produce a fake one. She doesn‘t know where to go nor find her way out. She stopped her tears. Her heart burst in pain. She held the mirror. She saw herself on the reflection. She tried to draw a smile on her face but pain took it away. She broke the mirror with

her own fist and cut her veins using the broken piece. She did not mind nor did she fell any pain. Blood flowed out from the incision she made on her gentle skin. With the door locked and loud music playing, she wrote a poem. A poem written from her very own blood:

[ 63 ]


[ 64 ]


She‘s there in a corner. Silently crying as she hugged her pillow, remembering the old days when she can still hold on. Old days that she reminisced so vividly ‗til the last drop of her tears fell on a piece of a broken mirror. She took her life on her own will. And only her truly knows how it feels.

[ 65 ]



Photography by Mark Q. Maagma




FOUNDED 1960 JEMUEL B. GARCIA III Editor-in-Chief JOHN BREX B. BRIONES Associate Editor ALLYN T. ARTATES Managing Editor JANZ M. SAMPATON News Editor AIMEE JANE D. URETA Feature Editor RAPHAEL JERICHO E. MAGALIT Literary Editor JULIE ANN JOY R. JARQUIO Sports Editor CRISA MAE G. DALA Senior Staff Writer JOHN PAUL DOMINIC A. BAYLOSIS PEARL ROSE ANNE C. TALAM GEMMA S. NALANGAN SARAH JOY G. MATITU LELANE D. BINDOLO Junior Staff Writers ANDREA D. FLORES Senior Photojournalist JOESTINE CLYDE V. TOLORES Senior Graphic Artist PETER R. ARBOLEDA CHERRY MAE R. TEODOSIO Publication Advisers

PERISCOPE is the official literary folio of The Aklan Tradesman. This book is a work of fiction. The names, places, characters and events found herein are either products of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. The PERISCOPE is published once every year by The Aklan Tradesman Publication of Aklan State UniversityCollege of Industrial Technology, Kalibo, Aklan All rights reserved. No content of this publication or the whole of it may be copied or reproduced in any form without written permission from the editor. We welcome suggestions and contributions from the students and faculty. Please send your manuscripts to the Editor-in-Chief, The Aklan Tradesman, ASU-CIT, Kalibo, Aklan. The Editorial Board reserves the right to accept, reject, and revise all articles submitted and then after the articles shall become the property of the Aklan Tradesman subject applicable to laws, copyright and intellectual property. The Aklan Tradesman Publication is a member of the College Editors Guild of the Philippines. Publications made can be viewed online thru issuu.com/theaklantradesman. This publication is printed by the Makinaugalingon Printer and Bookbinder.



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