Tag Archive: art

Seems Like Old Times

You’ve barely touched your tea. Earl gray, black with one and a half teaspoon sugar. You know I could make that drink in my sleep, or even when I’m drunk. One teabag, sugar… Continue reading

Let the River Run

At first, there was one. She emerged head first, her hair tangled with seaweed. Naked, her bosoms floated on the water as she rose. The curves of her back and hips slid ever… Continue reading

Long Ago (and Far Away)

You danced with that awkward, chubby boy, one night, when he moped at the corner at prom. He drank punch, his date had flew off to the crowned king. But you slid in,… Continue reading

Lose Yourself

The toxicity is in the car as it drives, drives itself up the falling streets of Manila. The toxicity is the used napkin that levitates one second as it falls after wiping my… Continue reading

Delight || Delirium Photos

Last August 31-September 2 were the shows of my thesis production “Delight || Delirium.” From then until now, we haven’t really shared any performance pictures, so do allow me to post a couple… Continue reading

Ain’t Too Proud to Beg

A man is sitting on a red armchair. Bare-torsoed, he is wearing only a pair of dress pants and socks. He crosses his feet alternately, right over left, then left over right. He… Continue reading

(We’re off on the) Road to Morocco

So, there’s this orb-y thing we got to get. It’s at this undisclosed place that’s quite far (but not that far). We were the trip, me and my buddy. He is the flourished… Continue reading

Footloose

The last ten minutes of service is always the longest. “Stop, Rev. Top,” whispered me to Allie. She bit her lower lip, but the top half of her teeth were still stretching to… Continue reading

Forty-Second Street

We parked at the corner of forty-first. I had asked him to move closer as I hated slipping through the slush that has covered the city the night before. He lowered his aviator… Continue reading

All That Jazz

There were no dustbunnies under the sofa, but she swept underneath anyway. The handle of the broom was the exact length for a woman of her height to be able to reach to… Continue reading