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The day is over. Mommy Ely passed on at 2 today. When a mother dies, the guardian of childhood memories, carries with her vivid... -
There is nothing that the sun will not expose. On a clear day, one cannot ignore the things that have to be resolved. I bring all my conc... -
Healing hands are warm like a freshly ironed shirt. It seems that these hands were prayers themselves in bones and flesh of every fi... -
I am in Autumn. Divestment. Detachment. Purging. Sharing my valuables now that I can still choose with what to do with my material... -
I finally caught the blooms of this wild Philippine endemic tree called Putat! What a name for an ethereal and ephemeral cascade of flowers... -
Pauses are little pockets of air time that allow me to mull and ponder over the track i have covered in my life. Oh it was also bumpy l... -
I have no difficulty choosing between planting fruit bearing trees or flowering ones as my choice would always be trees for my soul and not ... -
There is a season for everything or everything has its season. I gave the first fruits, plump and red in its natural arrangement, cling... -
taken after the baptism of Justo and Ziva (seated l-r) Sugar with Justo and Sofia, Mommy Eli with Ziva, me with Jose and Jacob, Vit...
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