By here, I meant somewhere, but it’s not found on a map. There’s no X Marks the Spot. Here could be a void, a floating corner in the universe, in a vacuum, under the earth. But here is a good
Excuse me, I’ve caught the I Can Only Write One Thing disease. Believe me, it’s bad. The worse. Like trying to squeeze things out of your head but your entire skull is like a dam that won’t open. And as
I’m back! Or am I? Is this just a fleeting illusion where I imagine myself using my blog’s still-confusing, block-utilizing editor? Is this a fake mirage where I finally got the time to sit down and ramble about nothing? Not
The weather has reached a point where the atmosphere feels like the sun is pressing down on you and you perpetually cower under feelings of fatigue and irrational tiredness and want to fall asleep. It makes work so hard, because
Let me describe the past week to you: on Monday, we woke up as early as 5 a.m., brushed our teeth, sipped some coffee, and headed out home to make our way into the election precinct. There’s something about this
#36 Laundry. Lots of blue things. Tricycle. A house surrounded by man-made waves. A choir practicing in the corner. Everyone swimming looks at her. "Siya lang ang oldies na di napapanis." — Caris (@hellocaris) May 10, 2019 When you start
