Tuesday, June 25

Photo of the Week

Photo of the Week (10/30/16)

Photo of the Week (10/30/16)

Photo of the Week
Patois I understand the dialect on how the sky delivers suffering. Today it weaves a landscape that translates into pain. The light settles grandly on the shore where I come from, and the clouds are faint of blue and purple, almost drawing a bruise. Careful not to step on the puddles where the saltwater accumulates, I start to walk. I think about this space—with its infinite varieties, its potential to wound and preserve. I am unable to define the distance occupying the ocean’s nervous waves. I remain gripped with fear that something in me is permanently broken. I begin to swim. F Words by ANDREA JAMAICA H. JACINTO Photo by KATRINA MAE H. MARCOS
Photo of the Week (10/23/16)

Photo of the Week (10/23/16)

Photo of the Week
He returns to the time his father taught him how to swim in the ocean. As half of their bodies were submerged under water, he felt how the sole of his father’s left foot touched his right leg when he thrust to demonstrate a basic stroke. He watched him float and rotate his arms, sweeping the water to move forward. His father paddled a few meters away from him, creating waves that splashed all over his face. When he finished wiping his face with his hands, he saw his father making his way towards him. With droplets of water trickling down from his hair to his face, his father compelled him to do the same. As he was being observed by his father from behind, the nine-year-old boy tried to kick using his right foot, but exerted too much force with toes curled—creating tension for t
Photo of the Week (09/25/2016)

Photo of the Week (09/25/2016)

Photo of the Week
MARVEL My brother tells me that the sky is a blank canvas at this time of day but I never took notice of it. Maybe it is because I did not bother much to look up, or to look at anything else besides the ground. I went to the same place at the same time every single day to look for live clams, half-open bivalves , and washed up seaweeds. I looked, but I never wandered. There was not a time when silence enveloped the shore: the waves enter in turmoil, but through their course they become soft, like a set of dominos hitting one another in a continuous motion until the last tile. The wind hums to the water swaying, as they too come and go in short sequences. I move forward and tread on grains of sand, multicolored rocks, and crushed shells with my bare feet. The ground rustles softly...
Photo of the Week (09/18/2016)

Photo of the Week (09/18/2016)

Photo of the Week
You stand along the sandy shores of the azure ocean in front of you. In the far horizon, the radiance of the sun slowly weakens your eyesight. Clad in skimpy beachwear, you rush towards the water and plunge yourself deep until you feel your feet no longer touching the soaked sand. Alarmed by the realization, your body starts sinking. You raise your hands and wave them in incomprehensible motions, and you scream, only to let the water enter your mouth. The ocean has finally engulfed you and you slowly submerge to the bottom. Your lungs cry out for oxygen as you sink motionless. You try to open your eyes but the seawater stings and forces them shut. But in that brief moment, you perceive light, a combination of red and yellow, reflecting on the surface. Sud...
Photo of the Week (09/11/2016)

Photo of the Week (09/11/2016)

Photo of the Week
Tanaw Pinagmamasdan ko ang namumutla mong mga pisngi habang tumitingala ka upang tignan ang pinakatuktok na gulong ng umaandar na ruweda. Kinakagat mo ang iyong labi bilang pahiwatig na nagdadalawang isip kang manatili sa pila sa tabi. Maaaring hindi mo napapansin ang ngiti kong nagbibigay-katiyakang magiging ayos ang lahat at makakabalik tayo sa mismong lupang ating tinatapakan. Maaaring hindi mo nararamdaman ang paghigpit ng hawak ko sa iyong kamay habang papalapit tayo nang papalapit sa gulong na sasakyan dahil sa iyong pagkabalisa sa matataas na lugar. Nasa unahan na tayo ng pila nang ibaling mo sa akin ang iyong atensyon. Bago ka pa mag-umpisang magsalita, inuusig na tayo ng konduktor na pumasok sa gulong na walang laman. Magkatabi tayong umupo sa loob. Nakaluhod ako sa u...
Photo of the Week (08/28/2016)

Photo of the Week (08/28/2016)

Photo of the Week
Ang Mga Walang Pangalan Umaapaw na ang mga sari-saring bulaklak sa labi ng batong balon. Humahapon sa gilid, pakalat-kalat tulad ng mga taong nakikiramay sa matagal nang patay at kanyang kaluluwa’y gala sa umaga. Malamig na hangin hudyat ay gabi, pumapatid sa pagitan ng mga paa namin. Pawisang nakipagkumpulan sa tapat ng simbahan, tahimik na winawagayway ang plaka, protesta naming mga nakakaalala. Sa pangalawang kalembang ng kampana, nagsilabasan ang mga tao. Sa loob ng dibdib ko’y halos marinig ko na ang paunang musika ng Bagong Lipunan. Ilang rebulto at kuwadro sa museo pa ba ang dapat ipatayo para tayo ay makaalala? Ilang beses na tayong bumisita at nagpabalik-balik sa mga pruweba ng dati nating pagkawasak. Hanggang sa ngayon, hindi katumbas ng arok ng
Photo of the Week (08/21/2016)

Photo of the Week (08/21/2016)

Photo of the Week
NASISILAW KA ng sinag ng araw na sumisilip sa mga bintana ng iyong kwarto, at naririnig mo ang mga ingay sa bahay na nagpapahiwatig ng bagong umaga, ngunit hindi ka tunay na gising. Ito ang oras kung kailan ka didilat at tatayo galing sa iyong kama. Aayusin mo ang iyong higaan, at tititig sa maputla mong repleksyon sa salamin. Bababa ka na ng kwarto at tutungo sa hapag-kainan, kung saan mag-uugnayan ang iyong pamilya na tila hindi batid ang iyong presensya. At habang nangyayari ang mga ito, pinipilit mong kumbinsihin ang iyong sariling gising na ang iyong diwa, at handa kang labanan ang mga nakalatag na pagsubok para sa iyong araw. Hindi ka pa gising. Nagigising kang tunay sa paglubog ng araw. Habang kinakain ng kadiliman ang liwanag, dadalhin ka ng mga pagod mong paa pauwi ...
Photo of the Week (08/14/2016)

Photo of the Week (08/14/2016)

Photo of the Week
Ang kamay kong hawak ni mama ay nangangati nang magpumiglas. Nagsasawa na ako sa sagot niyang “hindi pwede" habang pinipilit ko siyang payagan akong sumakay sa ride. Gusto kong malaman kung anong tumatakbo sa isip ng isang taong nag-aasam na maabot ang langit kahit alam niyang anumang oras, siya ri’y babagsak. Mas mangingibabaw pa rin ba ang takot niya kaysa galak? Ang ideya na ito ang nagtulak sa akin na bitawan si mama at kumaripas ng takbo. Bawat hakbang palayo sa kanya ay bumibigat ang aking loob. Nilingon ko siya at nakita ang takot at galit sa kanyang mga mata. Hindi na nagkaroon si mama ng pagkakataong mahabol ako nang agad akong umupo sa ride at hindi nagdalawang isip na isuot ang seatbelt. Ilang saglit pa’y dahan-dahan akong umakyat hanggang sa maabot ko ang tuktok kung saan m
Photo of the Week (07/31/2016)

Photo of the Week (07/31/2016)

Photo of the Week
Cosmologists theorize that there is an infinite number of universes. Across one side of an argentine pavilion lies a park filled with lush fields of grass alongside a concrete pavement and trees embellished with scintillating lights. At night, couples chat and sit down either on a cleaved trunk of a tree or on the lawn as students pass by in this dimension. Yet in another dimension, the soil might have been barren, the sparkle might have gone out, and the pairs might have gone home, unaware of each other’s existence, leaving the park in the shadows. F Words by ZYMON ARVINDALE R. DYKEE Photo by KATRINA MAE H. MARCOS