Liyab Archives - Page 2 of 36

01

Nov

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In Memory Through Time

THE DAY has stretched long enough for Kimpoy’s back to hurt, as it has been seated on the plastic stool in front of the computer. With a promise of pocket money, Kimpoy usually spends the week before Undas at his uncle’s computer shop. Helping out editing on Photoshop, printing out…

31

Oct

By Hjadoeya Calica

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Sino ang tao, sino ang laman

MAGPAPABAGA tayo sa tabi ng paupahan gamit ang posporong minana mo sa tatay mo. Hahagod ang pula sa lalamunan ko, uubo, ilalabas ang hanging ninakaw ko sa’yo. Ang mga mata mong nakatutok na sa’kin. Mapanuri, tila hinihiwa ang balat tagos hanggang buto. Hinablot ko ang kahong nasa kandungan mo, Tinitingala…

07

Sep

By Anthea Anika de Sales

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U-Belt At The End of The World

“BEFORE THE downpour, there were places so clear, you could see your own reflection,” Ami breaks the silence between her and her sister, Isla. Letting go of the oars, she stretches her arms and removes her respirator, the putrid air filling her nose. But being a child of the believed…

11

Aug

By Tricia Anne Daquiz

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Once, where the sun leads

I BASK in the scorching heat, witnessing new faces cheer in color-coded shirts and matching headbands, each upbeat chatter swelling in waves as the crowd begins their walk. The sun bears down on them; the golden beams cover the crowd like a welcome remark. Quietly, the old landmark stretches a…

03

Aug

By Francis Miguell Sta. Rosa

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Beach Vacation

CALLOUSED BY urban concrete every day, there is nothing my feet want more than to sink into pristine Cebu sand. The sea never fails to bring repose. The salty breeze unclogs noses used to constantly filtering dust, and the sight of docking ships resets brains desensitized by overstimulation. My family…

20

Jul

By Alyanna Ysabel Sacramento

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The New Streets

ONLY THE faint rustles of wheels on asphalt can be heard this morning. None of the usual plastic cracklings nor clamoring chatters among vendors and customers alike. The streets are clean, save for the residual water from rain. At this time of the day, the place is usually packed; cardboard…

06

Jul

By Tricia Anne Daquiz

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Dry Season

I USED to think of summer as an illusion of rest and revival; a hazy season stitched together by slow mornings and days so mundane they blur into each other, only to be racked with busy weekends and blistering outdoor plans. And yet, I find myself on neither end. As…

15

Jun

By Ren Sophia Bughaw

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Love, Unspoken

Morning leans in, unfolding by a crumbling wall where whispering white blossoms spill. He, bare-footed, wears yesterday’s tired shrug and reading glasses that hide everything unsaid. Wares made of pretend gold lie on faded velvet trays, a kingdom of tin and tinsel for passing eyes and careless fingers. Each…

10

Jun

By Hjadoeya Calica

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Collateral

WE WERE victims of early morning shifts and late night duties. We would wake up before everyone else and arrive home when everyone was asleep. We were at war with the duality of our bodies, confused about which consciousness to follow. A piece of paper was plastered on the wall…

02

Jun

By Von Zyron Alimorong

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Sanctuary

FOR THE last two of my almost six-year-long stay at the University, I have lived more or less the same routine. The routine is as follows: wake up, prepare myself, and make an early arrival at our office, maybe catch some coffee along the way, spend the rest of the…