Kuwaderno XVI

XVI

XVI is the literary folio of White & Blue, the official student publication of Saint Louis University, Baguio City, Philippines Member College Editors’ Guild of the Philippines Copyright Š 2018 by White & Blue All Rights Reserved. All materials contained in this annual publication belong to their respective atughors and artists.

No material may be reproduced and/or copied in any form without the written permissions of the copyright holders.

Layout by Jeremy Joshua Dupli Jastine Christer Kabigting Cover Art by Jewel Ruby Gamueda Inside Cover Art by Yvette Camantilles Adrian Nicolas Printed by Magicus Junctra Corporation 1720 President Quirino Avenue Pandacan, Manila

Editor’s Note There is no shortage of motion in this fast-paced world.

We have to keep up.

Our lives are in entropy.

RUN – from here to there, from start to finish.

Too little time to waste; so much distance to cover.

Dare for every fleeting breath, take everything in – all the sunrises and sunsets, their every in-betweens:

shrieking alarms, dashing cars, trickling waters,

ticking clocks, stretching miles, piling files.

We keep on running.

Our breaths thick in airs so thin.

Alight we break, apace we go.

Each step has gone faster than before.

We’re keeping up – or so we thought.

We kept on running, our own speed betraying us.

In a blink of an eye, a flick of the wrist, a sleight of hand trickery seeming way too real, we fail.

Kuwaderno – a much needed halt in this marathon turned sprint.

We are stories of times and distances that aren’t quite fast enough, close enough.

Of crossroads that have never quite met.

Of speeds that aren’t in the same direction to begin with.

Let our scalars turn into vectors.

Kuwaderno.

Thread lightly.

Renante Andres Jr. Literary Editor

LANGUID

in dark asphalt rivers we flow our underlying currents churn instability reflecting moons and skies in troubled ripples of black we crave for motion in viscosities we thought were free-flowing our limbs and lips and thoughts unmoving ever so slowly in dark asphalt rivers we solidify like primeval insects trapped in amber – eternal yet ephemeral as moons and skies strike earth we burn embers, scorching flares extinguishing darkness our limbs and lips and thoughts moving ever so slowly

Monumento Nakilala kita, sa tabi ng monumento.

Sumulyap ka, Ngunit di nakuntento.

Tahimik ang ambon, at mahaba ang gabi.

Baka magkasipon, Kung hindi magkubli.

Pinara ko ang jeep, sa harap ng monumento.

Ikaw ay sumilip, at hindi nakuntento.

Bumaba ako sa tabi, sumunod ang iyong paa.

Binasa ko ang labi. at nagsimulang mangamba.

Tumakbo ako ng mabilis, kinopya mo ako.

Sumigaw ako ng labis,

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Pinatahimik mo.

Huwag mo akong saktan, Iyan ang sabi ko.

Tumaas ang iyong kilay at iniwan ako.

Hoy manyakis ang sabi ko, muli kang humarap.

Teh ganda mo, biglang bulalas mo.

Tumuloy ka ng lakad, Ako’y nagulo.

Iyan ang lahad, kwentong monumento.

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10 Things Nobody Says Out Loud 1. I once saw a circle of yellow light pinned against dirty blue curtains. It reminded me of a miniature sky. Now every time I close my eyes, I see a cloudless endless space and I feel like throwing myself into a disappearing black hole in broad daylight. It’s getting harder to sleep at night.

2. By default, falling objects have an acceleration of approximately 9.8 m/s2. I like going to high places, where I picture myself dropping coins, photos, tickets, pens, scraps of paper, myself, grapes, keys and phones to the ground. I flinch every time these imaginary objects splatter against the sidewalk. I think it’s cruel that gravity gives us enough time to think about what we dropped mere moments before we lose them.

3. Whenever I overexert myself, my whole body starts trembling. When this happens, I take long walks around the city with no earphones on. I like to hear my shoes hit the pavement along with a hundred other shoes, and if I walk fast enough, I can’t feel my own shaking and everything around me stretches to lines of light and color. I don’t know what I’m running away from, but it seems that neither time nor distance nor speed matters to it. It always catches up.

4. I’m starting to think my problem is I don’t have enough sweaters. At least I have a thick, fluffy blanket I can wrap around myself on exceptionally cold nights. The disadvantage here is that it’s dark and I am trapped in the sounds my body makes.

Have you ever heard the universe sigh? On such occasions, even time freezes. I am an astronaut floating untethered in deep space. The theory of relativity says it might be a few more decades before I am found. Before I let myself be found.

5. There is a sight I want to show someone. Or at least tell him about it. I pause on the steps and count all the reasons why I can’t. One, he’s too far away. Two, I have no intention of closing the distance. Three, my voice is a bullet train exploding on the railings inside my throat. Four, it’s getting harder to speak. Five, it’s getting harder to tell him anything. To tell anyone anything.

6. There is a sight I want to show someone. Or at least tell him about it. I can only think of one reason why I can. Why I should. But it’s not a good enough reason to stop me from being a chickensh*t. Nothing is ever a good enough reason. I am good at excuses like that.

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7. I tried to write non-fiction once. I already listed three characters. The first is an emotionally stunted girl with shaking hands and a coffee-bean heart. The second is a boy who deserves better than an emotionally stunted girl with shaking hands and a coffee bean heart. He gets what he deserves. The third character is what he deserves. Until now, I can’t make myself write the story.

8. I read that ostriches can run over forty miles an hour.

When I was 12, I got so excited when we visited the zoo that I unknowingly stepped right into the tracks of racing ostriches. Fortunately, the rumbling of the earth and the dust warned me of their approach, and I managed to get out of the way before I got trampled.

I consider it as one of the most terrifying experiences I’ve ever had, along with writing this poem.

9. A movie told me that cherry blossoms fall at a speed of 5 cm/s. For a while, I refused to believe it, and I refused to look it up. Someone told me that at the rate I’m going, I’m gonna need help. (Help with what?

I asked. They didn’t answer.) For a while, I refused to believe it. I refused to look for it.

10. The best writing advice I’d ever gotten goes: Kill your darlings. The word ‘darlings’ here doesn’t necessarily pertain to loved characters. It’s also applicable to unnecessary words. Examples: Not okay, Help me, You’re so beautiful it makes me stupid, Stay with me, Thank you, I’m sorry, I actually like hugs sometimes, I’m scared of you, I’m envious, I love, I want, I want. These words must be cut from dialogue. They’re just not realistic enough.

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Foresight Pula.

Tulad ng rosas na binigay mo sa ating anibersaryo at ng kulay ng bago kong lipstik sa pisngi mo... kawangis rin ng sulat na pilit mong itinatago Puti.

Kulay ng mga paunti-unting kasinungalingang nabanggit mo Noong una isa lang na naging dalawa . . . dalawampu na ata.

Ewan ko hindi ko na maalala Asul.

Kulay ng mga pangarap kong hindi ka kasama at ng kalangitang sa wakas ay batid ko na sa mga ala-alang unti-unti ko nang pinapalaya.

Pula. Puti. Asul. Paulit-ulit.

Ganito ang pag-ibig nating dalawa, katulad ng ningning ng isang bitwing malapit nang mamatay.

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Time Lapse We lived in a time where the color of my skin mattered more than the beat of my heart, and they locked me away in dungeons or left me trapped under wooden skies, feeling nothing but the water thrumming underneath my bare feet and the drums become my pulse.

We lived in a time where the god that I worship mattered more than the beat of my heart, and they threw me into chambers, stripped naked of my humanity, my dignity, my family, and they lit me up to keep you warm, what your cold hearts failed to do.

We lived in a time where the attraction of opposites mattered more than the beat of my heart, and they shunned me in their closets, pretending to not know, they end up forcing me to have children of my own, to marry what society befits me, to follow their orders, by imprisoning me in my body made to love the same.

We lived in a time where the call of my duty mattered more than the beat of my heart, and they sent me out on ships and planes, with guns in my hands meant to hold the ones I love, and they return me on ships and planes but in wooden boxes instead, with the flag hugging me safe, what your arms failed to do.

Yes, you have lost me, countless of times over to the voices of others and you were deaf to mine I pleaded for you to fight back against the system the carefully constructed illusion to prevent us from chaos but my love, was there truly nothing we could have done to protect us from destruction? they have driven us into corners only made for us to suffer.

And yet, nothing has changed, we still live in the time where the war still rages on, where the waters carry more, where the closets are full, where the belief is discriminated. why must they have to matter more than the beat of my heart?

Treeborn I arms like branches of a beech tree cradling a small fat bird with black feathers. something about the leafsong lifts the crow’s head for the first time.

II time flickers by the crow barely sees it pass the wind murmurs to the eggshells at its feet. in growing up, there is movement the leaving of a nest the quickening of heartbeats beneath black down. the beech tree has limbs like vines loving, creeping, closing the distance.

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III sunday is the day of the sun of the heat of the scorching tongue of the restless bird and its flight away from the woods. sunday is the setting sun and the disappearing clocks and disappearing lights but the tree is the forest is the tree, its branches worming into the wind as it whistles. sunday. the crow makes a sound makes silence makes a screaming soul afraid of suns and trees.

IV in growing up and growing old there is no escaping the black taste clinging to inside the throat inside the skull inside the crow and the tree and the changing colors of a forest in love with age. in growing there is only attempt after attempt to unlove, uncreep, unclose a distance that does not exist anymore.

V arms like branches of a beech tree wrapping around an empty cradle leaves singing lullabies to dead air and dead crows.

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Mama Not Dead At 1:30, when the sun is flaring in midday and the air feels like it’s burning, you saw me walking past the aged pendulum towards the locked doors. “You’re doing it?” you asked but I turned my back on you and went out of the house quietly.

At 3:00, damped with sweat and soil moisture, I came back and saw you sitting in the same place where I last saw you. “Mom was here. I saw her in the kitchen,” you said to me with a hint of something I do not want to define any further. Confusion. “I’ll just clean my hands. They’re wet and dirty,” I said and walked away.

At 5:45, when the sky turns scarlet and the clouds form a massive coat in the sky, you saw me walking past the aged pendulum towards the locked doors. “You’re doing it again?” you asked, but I turned my back on you and went out of the house quietly.

At 7:00, when the night is seemingly eerie, I came back and saw you sitting in the same place where I last saw you. “Mom was here. She called to me. She said I should go sit and talk to her,” you said to me with a hint of something I do not want to define any further. Uneasiness. “I’ll just clean my hands. They’re wet and dirty,” I said and walked away.

At 9:30, when the woods were no longer seen and the sky is painted pitch-black, you saw me walking past the aged pendulum towards the locked doors. “Why do you keep on doing it?” you asked but I turned my back on you and went out of the house quietly.

At 11:00, when the air is already crisp and thin, the sky is nothing but black eyes witnessing our solemn souls, I came back and saw you sitting in the same place where I last saw you. “I sat with her. We talked.

She missed us. She hugged me tightly,” you said to me with a hint of something I do not want to define any further. Agitation. “I’ll just clean my hands. They’re wet and dirty,” I said and walked away.

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At 12:00, when all the paths unravel for the lost souls, the sky no more tells which day it is and which day it was, you saw me walking past the aged pendulum towards the locked doors. “Stop doing it,” you said but I turned my back on you and went out of the house quietly.

At 2:42, I heard sobs coming from the house. I heard two voices talking and shushing.

I came back and saw you sitting in the same place where I last saw you. “Mom told me we should go with her,” you said to me with a hint of something I do not want to define any further. Fear.

And then you begged me.

“Stop doing it, please. It won’t change a thing. The more you do it, the more she’s to come back, and we both know that’s not gonna happen.”

You gripped my shoulders hard and shook me, “Lily, stop digging up Mom’s grave!”

“I’ll just clean my hands. They’re wet and dirty,” I said and walked away.

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The Music Box Dancer Spinning. I am always spinning. My world is a little space of crystal and wood. My body is slender. My face blight and kind. Some would look at me and see a view full of warmth. Picturesque as they would say.

Today, the cage which they call my home opened. I automatically posed, my arms raised, my body poised like a swan. Then I danced as the sweet, irritating, somber music played, I counted the seconds and looked at his face. It usually takes him a few minutes to admire my show. He inched towards me. He caressed my face and I felt the pang of pain hit my cheekbones. The blush crept on my face. The powder and makeup faded as he added purple to make me more pretty. He loves it when I turn purple.

I feel trapped. All I do is dance in this pedestal. The distance becomes more bleak as the spotlight shower my silhouette. The time is still there at the back of my mind, reminding me that he will get tired. Someday his hair will gray and his body would drop as I dance gracefully. I closed my eyes. The irritating song filled the air. The box opened. He’s watching me.

I hear the people. They talk so greatly about how entertaining I am. Some days he even invites them.

And I dance of course. At 11:00, they would leave. If they are happy about my performance, he would give me little kisses, and bruises too. Then I would wonder. Did they see the clues? The forced smiles?

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Or maybe they just looked at the surface. Maybe all they wanted to see was the perfect porcelain doll that couldn’t leave the spotlight. The next day they would whisper my name. About how I dance like a ballerina. About how beautiful I am. But they would never dream of saying the truth. All they cared about was the sight – of a lovely woman, paraded like a queen. Traveling the corners of the world. Never looking at the time for she was too proud. But no one asked what she feels, what the truth is. Because all she traveled are the four corners of hell. And the clock is there to show her how little time she has before the wrinkles appear.

Before he discards her for a new queen to parade and hurt.

Sometimes I wish that he would break me. That he would push me further into oblivion, so I can finally be free. But he’s smart (like most maniacs).

He knows where to hit me. How to not leave any marks. And I hate it! How he treats my wounds after he caused them himself. And I hate how weak I am. How I just crumble with his words, beg for his mercy. But like anything that shatters.

He will leave a chip. Unnoticeable, faint. But real.

And someday that chip will grow, until it will slowly create a ripple. And hopefully I will shatter.

Shatter into million memories of pain and hate and hope.

My face is streaked with salty tears. My lips are red with lipstick and blood. I can hear him cry from a distance. The sobbing grew loud, the

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light still focused on me. I raise my hand like I’m reaching for the sky. He’s near. My dress is like a whirlpool as I spin. And for a moment I wish that I could drown. But all I have are the tears and the bruises. And him? Well he is full of bullshit and resentment. He feels that he owns me, that I was made to dance forever. To dance for him. But it’s probably true since I’m still smiling as I perform in a three step pedestal. The clock tick above my head.

I close my eyes, and forget about the man infront of me. I hear nothing, not the sobbing or the thumps.

I’m nothing. Not but an instrument to fulfill his ego and psychotic fantasies. I am a music box dancer – a porcelain perfection that spins to make him smile.

Open my box. Just don’t ask what happens when the music ends.

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Remind me The rush of passengers eliminated the solace of today, regardless of the sky bursting at the seams I hold on to a stillborn mirror I hide it in the depths of my backpack I ignore its sharpness I turn to my side, to the girl wearing a bright yellow dress, likened to a sunflower I feel the tear and the mirror slipping and the night split into scattered memories I walk past you, my neck stiff from looking back, you looked my way this time

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Generation Gap He looked out the window longingly, as if searching for something precious lost among the ruins. Nobody had expected the Devastation to happen as quick and sweeping as this.

“Our generation saw the last of the trees and stood beside the last of the creatures that roamed the earth. Our forefathers claim that there had been more, although evidence only exists in history books and photographs—you might not have seen those artifacts,” the gray-haired man turned to face me and narrated in his gravelly voice.

With hands tied to my back and my mouth gagged, I could only shake my head.

“Your generation was supposed to be the smartest, equipped with the most advanced technology and a vast network of information. You grew up playing with robots. The age before you worked hard to provide you the best—yet you could not see beyond yourselves. For all your intellectual power, you could not feel the slightest attachment to humanity. You turned out to be the worst,” he continued.

I shivered more at the sight of the timer behind the old man than at his words. 9… 8… 7…

“You are to be the last of them. Would you care to speak a few final words for your generation?”

With this, he took the cloth from my mouth. 4… 3… 2…

“You—you blame our generation… but have you ever stopped to think of who raised us?” my voice cracked.

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His eyes widened as my own were illuminated by the bombs falling beyond the window. “It is done, my son,� he whispered.

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Your body turning into a question mark as we lay down

together apart

and I, an undecided ending

we are forces of turning backs, unable to

end The windows let no light in, the curtains drawn a crack can be noticed in the warmest of places The pillow is spilled into secret mournings our evenings I turn to you no longer a comma

APACE

Verbatim Nakaupo ako sa lilim, Naghihitay sa pagdating.

Sa hulugan ng piso, ilan na ang humiling.

Mainit ang araw, ngunit sanay ang balat.

Sa paulit-ulit na babad, tunaw na ang lahat.

Minsan nasanay, sa lambing mong dala.

Kaya lumaon, nakalimutan ko na.

Nakaupo ako sa lilim, iba na ang dala.

Ang bigat ng damdamin, kasabwat ko na.

Hindi ko malilimot, ang bigkas mong tula. “Ikaw ang ngiti, kabigkis ng labi�.

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Ilang piso ang lumubog, ilang lobo ang limipad.

Makarating man sa dulo, hindi mo pa rin masasalo.

Hindi ko malilimot ang bigkas mong tula “paalam anak, Ikaw ang saya�.

Nakaupo ako sa lilim Naghihintay sa pagdating.

Umihip ang malakas na hangin, wala ka pa rin.

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The Physics of Want I imagine falling in love with you while I wait for the traffic lights to turn green. I imagine falling, waiting for the ground to meet me, but I suppose this is an anomaly, because sometimes gravity does not work the way we want it to.

I imagine the city going dark and going bright at the same time. I imagine lights drifting ever downward, looking for the space reserved for them, finding nothing, finding an eternally moving galaxy that waits for no one. I see buildings, concrete edifices reaching for their rightful place among the clouds, their windows black and transparent as the wet road. Everything inside is dark from where I’m standing.

I imagine closing the distance with a single word. I know I can. I imagine my throat, an arching bridge, my voice a wanderer, and you on the other side, always on the other side. I imagine scraping the honesty off the bottom of my lungs. I see you with your gaze on the colors that make up the sky, your feet moving onward, ever onward.

I imagine an accident where I am accidentally whole, where every time I break, my pieces rush to stitch themselves back together at the speed of a falling raindrop. Imagine that, imagine a world where the only time I can’t feel anything is equal to the gap between gray clouds and wet pavement.

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I imagine us as two pairs of legs, bending at the knees and straightening as we walk to opposite directions, while the traffic lights turn green and I am a raindrop falling the length of one step per heartbeat, and hearts are tireless, sometimes, aren’t they? They keep the clocks ticking, time moving, you leaving, and me falling—not for you, but away from you.

I imagine missing you. I imagine myself walking up and along the overpass, needing you to be there when I start going down.

I imagine myself anywhere, wanting you closer. We are on opposite sides of this city, and I imagine wanting you to take one step towards me, just one step, a tentative brush of the sole of your shoe against the rain-soaked earth, and somehow I will know that we are closer than we will ever be.

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Drink on the Bar for Destiny I watch you from across the room as you take a third sip from your steaming cup of chai tea latte. I can tell from that distant look in your eyes that you’re distracted. The same way I have been since you walked into this café and into my carefully planned life brought chaos.

I check my wristwatch. I’ve got thirty-five minutes before I’m late for work.

Twenty minutes of which I need to get to my workplace on time. Meaning, I have fifteen more minutes to spare. Fifteen minutes to allow my eyes to wander and take you all in - or maybe, work up the courage to walk up to you and say “hi”.

Ten minutes.

If only you didn’t have that look on your face. The twinkle in your eyes and that smile you’re trying to suppress. If someone else in this crowded space were to see it, they’d probably think you’re quite mad. But, I know better.

Because that’s the exact look I have on my face right now as I stare at you.

Seven minutes.

I wonder who he is. Was he an old friend you’ve known forever or did he barrel into your life like a hurricane as you did in mine? Does he treat you right? Because I bet I could treat you better. Could you be engaged, or even married? Am I too late?

Five minutes.

A couple of feet. That is the distance I need to close to get to you. Or, is it? If I take a few more steps towards you, would that be enough to cover the part of my life without you or the part of yours before you set eyes on me?

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A couple of seconds. That is the time I need to enter your world. Or, is it? If I make an attempt at conversation, would that be enough for you to let me in for a while, if not a lifetime?

Two minutes.

No. That is the answer. None of it will be enough. For the distance between us is not measured in steps and the time between now and the rest of our lives together is not measured in seconds.

One minute.

The distance between us is measured in the rhythm of our heartbeats. It is two hearts beating in sync that closes the distance between them. And, the time between you and me is measured in heartbeats per minute. For though my heart goes all tachycardic for you, yours does too - for someone else.

My heart may chase after you - across land and sea, in this lifetime and in the next - but, it will never be enough.

Thirty seconds.

So, this is me walking away.

From your chaos that I’d give my every heartbeat for.

From the uncertainty that is us And, the certainty in my heart that is you.

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Ang Mundo’y Isang Malaking Bangketa At Pag-ibig Lang Ang Paninda Mo Bago muling magbulungan ang mundo, Bumangon ka na sa katahimikang hatid ng silid Tanaw mo, sa buong lawak ng iyong paningin, Ang lahat ng bagay ay nasa tama nitong lugar Maliban sa isa - ang iyong apelyido Na kailanma’y wala pang nagtangkang galawin ito Kinakapa kung ano ang kulang Ikaw lang ba ang nakalimutan ng oras?

Sinusuri kung tama pa ang timbang Tuturuan ang sarili na hindi na magbilang ng mga yinapak papalayo Sasapit na ang tanghalian at maghahanap ka pa ng iyong puwesto; Pupuwesto kung saan itatambad ang iyong ititinda, Magbabaka-sakaling ito na ang natatanging araw Baka sakaling may papansin na Baka sakaling may papatol na Baka sakaling may maaakit na Maraming mamimili sa paligid na iba-iba ang hanap At matagal-tagal mo na ring nilalako ang pag-ibig mo Ngunit wala kang suki sa iyong nag-iisang paninda.

Isang pagkampana na lang ang nalalabi at uuwi na ang liwanag Hindi magkamayaw ang mga iniisip kung ititigil na ang nakagawi Kaya’t binati mo ang iyong kama ng hagulgol, at unan ng mga suntok

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Sinusuri kung ano pa ang kulang Ikaw na lang ba ang nakalimutang gumalaw?

Kinakapa kung tama pa ang timbang Tuturuan ang sarili na hindi na magbilang ng nasayang na oras Siguro’t sawa na sa paninda na nagiging pasalubong sa sarili sa huli Pinipilit na ang iyong pagmamahal ay tapat na Magbabaka-sakaling ang paninda ay puwede pang ilako bukas Baka sakaling may titingin na Baka sakaling may lilingon na Baka sakaling may kukuha na

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#20 May flowers blooming.

From seedlings to sunshined beauties.

May flowers stemmed, cut, too soon.

May flowers touched by rough hands.

Without reason.

Gone, too soon.

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Watercolour From the pasty sight, of July rain.

To the murky water, it leaves behind.

We are a party, of crows and wolves.

December is a harsh breeze.

Of skin piling up, not making sense.

A warm sight, of red.

February is rainfall.

The lavenders scatter, filling the rain, with unavoidable conversations.

November is a memory.

I took you by the mouth, and you tasted like gold.

Expensive, unlike before.

I painted each shut door with gray.

Every clock is a subtle, hint of white.

Dead white.

The color suited you.

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For Your Sake What can I do to shorten this distance? Plane rides, bus stops, bullet trains. You’ve made it nearly impossible for me to reach your side of the Earth. Across merciless depths, over frightful heights, and deafening speed.

At three o’clock in the morning, my feet touch hard pavement, I dial your number but you said you’ve already left for another city. Sighs escape my lips listlessly and I rub my hand across my forehead.

I am a fool for chasing you, you are a flight risk never satisfied with cities that made you grew roots nor with the quietness of towns that refused to let you speak.

I tug and you push, another steps towards you and you take a step back.

You are running away again, you always loved running away. Does proximity daunt you? Has distance become your comfort blanket for your fear of attachments too strong to be broken with just one mere text and a goodbye?

How can we call this tragedy a relationship? Faces seen only on screen, fingertips never touching, eyes never truly meeting, and not being a hairsbreadth from each other’s lips. Am I simply someone meant to be virtual, never good enough to become your reality?

I envy the places you’ve been and the people who’ve gazed at your loveliness. I envy the sun and moon, they are the first to greet you, and I am forced to wait achingly for my sun to set for your sun to rise.

I could no longer bear to sit still and wait for your call, I want to hear the octaves of your voice void of static when you laugh, I want to kiss you under the moonlight, to sleep under messy covers and to wake up holding you tightly.

So I pack my bags and travel to wherever you may be, but you leave as soon as I’m in the city, the moment I’ve boarded, or a few hours after I tell you. What coincidences these must be.

I know what you’re trying to say, that commitments never did you any favors, that a new place demands a new lover, and that these online conversations are the closest thing you’ve had to a real relationship. But seeing you in front of a screen breaks my heart.

I know that even if I try to shorten the gap between us, the farther you’ll be from me. I know this and yet I stay. And I’ve lost my sense of pride or I’ve developed a delusion that I could change your mind. So I stand up again, and board the next flight.

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On the Way I think vehicles are the heaviest things

When passengers

carry cargo

in their hearts,

a thousand times

heavier than their baggage;

When their bodies

are made of metals,

while the seats

are wrapped

with electric current;

When their tears

created oceans,

and they wail

as they drown

with their gashes.

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I think terminals, seaports, and airports have witnessed the saddest thing

When the doleful eyes

of a six-year-old boy

beg his mother

who works abroad

not to leave;

When he wishes

that Christmas

would come quick

because he can’t wait

for another homecoming;

When the mother

held her son’s hands

as she hoped that

he wouldn’t forget her.

I think home is a place that can never be forgotten.

Waiting and hoping

that the roads will be empty

and the red lights

would even mean go;

That the passengers’ longing hearts

would be filled with excitement

not of farewell’s torment;

That the boy

would think of his mother

and listen to Jingle Bells again;

That the time would swallow the spaces

among the people

and lead them

back home.

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EQUILIBRIUM

The first act I behind you

means exchanging stories now means understanding

The sun seems gentle despite the afternoon

The fourth act is scattered stars is sharing scars

The second act demands talking The wind settles softly on your eyelashes

The fifth act is an open window

The third act means walking home together means familiarizing footsteps

Conquistador I set out to conquer your uncharted atlas And brave your unknown depths But darling, it seems like It was me you had discovered

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Saudade i.

Time is the sickness that steals the warmth from your hands. Its gnawing teeth feed on your thoughts. Sometimes you are too drowsy to stop it, and you start to forget, little by little. It pulls your entire body down until you find it too heavy and days become seconds.

Distance is the snake who hates the way you are in love. Never make it realize that you are thinking about him – it will coil around your legs to keep you from running, and its fangs will pierce your heart, each drop of blood counting the steps of him walking away. ii.

Time is a child with gray hair who demands every bit of your attention, but no matter how much you care for it, it’s not enough to fill your hollow chest. At night it will crawl on top of you, pressing cold fingers against your closed eyelids to startle you awake, again and again.

Distance is an open laptop, full of pictures that are never enough. The mouse clicks, clicks, zooms in, because it’s his best one, and you lean closer as though he never left. But your forehead hits cold metal, and you stare at a thousand iridescent pixels until your vision blurs.

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iii.

Time is a highway, the two of you stuck in opposite lines that constantly miss each other. You wake up when he starts to dream; he has breakfast during your midnight. But there are text messages and shared media, and for the moment, that is enough.

Distance is the air around you that fills your lungs and charges your blood. You know it exists, that it’s there, but it no longer has a hold on you. It has no part of you to feed on. It means nothing when you call him and he’s always there to answer. iv.

Time is a beast of gears and glass that breathes and never breaks. It will tell you that it never believes in the direction of its hands but instead listens to the tick tick of its heart. You change the timezone from how long has it been to how long until.

Distance is a Google search for how many miles from me to him? and then comparing it to the slowly increasing funds in your bank account. You cling to these numbers, even though they remind you of what you cannot reach for – yet – because it gives you hope that someday you can. v.

“Almost there,” Time whispers, and you smile as Distance dwindles down to zero.

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From The Beginning 2060 this is how we talk about each other: “oh. them.” “yeah, i know who that is.” “what was their name again?”

2035 we arrive in the same city as strangers that look like home. neither of us remember when we found some other center of gravity, around which we revolve like planets with our own satellites and designated orbits that will never intersect.

2033 – 2026 between lovers that pass across my bedsheets i think of you and our bicycles and the sidewalks carpeted with gold and orange leaves and the crackling sounds they made beneath our wheels, our feet. we felt like giants compared to the rest of the world.

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2025 we don’t tell each other where we’re going or what our plans are. we both know we are not each other’s destinations. we are not part of each other’s plans. the buses and trains and ships and planes flow between us like rivers with nowhere to go.

2024 - 2018 i lose you slowly. i stop remembering the last thing you said to me, go past the moment where your words tangle themselves in my hair and we breathe like mountain climbers at the very peak. (how far have we come?) (no one knows. no one cares.)

2017 our arms fold around each other. to keep myself from crying, i count the creases on our paper bodies where we bend to meet.

(why does anyone ever touch anyone?) (i’m starting to feel sore.) (but we are slow to let go.) love is a paper crane migrating. some cranes travel thousands of kilometers while others don’t move at all.

2015 we are lying on the grass and the sky is cloudless, the sun is fat and gold and merciless and it hurts to look at it so we look at each other instead. i realize i didn’t know the exact color of your eyes until this moment. the first time it hits me it’s like a bullet train running into me at top speed. like everything i’ve ever known has become a mystery and every mystery i’ve ever wondered about has been answered. like the entire universe had to unravel just to name you. my throat feels like an hourglass and the grass tickles and my neck is starting to hurt but we’re still looking at each other.

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​Pressing Flowers Day 1, Nameless kilometers I meet her in a place where girls give names to the things that hurt them.

There are all kinds of stories.

Anna Maria’s skin is a scythe. She had two brothers.

Tina knows running, knows mountains, knows a sky filled with metal. Tina is not her real name.

Patricia wants to set homes on fire because she is on fire. She might have succeeded.

I have nails in my scalp. I sit in the bathtub and turn the tap on and wait until I am in the ocean.

And her? Well.

I meet her in this place with these girls.

Her lips shape her name like it’s the sea and my mouth floods with saltwater.

I say my name and she smiles like she tastes it.

Day 10, Stationary meters She flinches the first time I get too close.

I ask: It’s no different, then?

She looks at my wrists, her wrists, the things that bind us to these inescapable bodies.

It’s all the same, she says. Everyone is the same. And don’t move. Just stay there.

Day 25, Approaching decimeters I tell her that I dream of walking away from the shore and into the waters.

She asks: Where would you go?

What do you mean where would I go?

Would you swim to China? Italy? Australia?

Why would I swim?

Day 45, Beneath-the-streetlamp centimeters I tell her she looks like a statue someone loves but has forgotten to clean.

She laughs. The sound forms a ghost from her breaths and rings louder than the chaos of the streets.

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I can’t believe no one turns to look at her for that. Have they heard such a sound before? I haven’t.

China, I say.

It is the nearest one, she says without missing a beat. I am a pretty good swimmer. I can teach you.

No. Why not?

Why won’t you come closer?

Day 60, Undressing millimeters We have a game that goes: I tell her that I can’t feel a thing and she dares herself to touch me.

I let her listen to the songs my neighbors play when they know I am looking for oceans.

She shows her favorite spot in the city. From here, she can see her least favorite spot.

Day 75, Behind-shut-doors micrometers She wants to braid someone else’s hair.

I can’t believe you’ve never braided anyone’s hair before, I tell her. You had no childhood.

Shut up.

She combs my hair in front of the mirror and she’s doing it slowly, like it’s a dance.

I glance at her and she’s watching the comb as it moves.

I catch the look in her eyes and now there is one more thing that can hurt me.

Day 100, Zero I have never kissed a girl before, she says.

Me neither, I say.

Day 120, Hesitating inches My knuckles hike across the mountain range of her spine.

She counts my fingers with her mouth.

We are tattoos on each other’s thighs.

Why me? we ask each other at the same time.

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Day 150, Lost feet The things that hurt us have names and feel like real people.

Will you stop that? she demands.

Stop what?

You know what!

You know it doesn’t have a switch.

I get close and she flinches.

I feel smug and defeated at the same time.

See? It’s the same for you.

Anna Maria’s brothers are not coming back. She is no chameleon, there is no changing her skin to adapt.

Tina doesn’t use her real name because only people from her home know what it means, and people from home do not exist anymore.

Patricia is not a doll to be sewn together, and the fire in her skull cannot be extinguished by tears.

I don’t have a switch. I feed it with my thoughts and it does as it pleases.

And in her sleep she thrashes and claws at an invisible face, and sometimes I’m the invisible face.

Day 200, Tangled handspans I ask her to teach me how to swim. Afterwards, she points out the parts of her body she hates the most on days when it’s not so easy to forget. I mark each of them with the air between her skin and my front teeth.

I show her my endings. All of them.

She tries to sing me to sleep but she’s tone-deaf and she ruins the song and I stay up all night complaining about it. She stays up all night trying to prove my complaints baseless. (They’re not.)

Day 250, One microinch Most days I still don’t feel like I deserve her.

Some days I want to learn everything about her so it will be easier to find the bottom of the ocean.

Often she can’t stand to be within five feet of another human being, and less often, she can’t stand to not be within five feet of another human being. Other days nobody hates her more than she does, nobody hates her more than I do.

It does not always feel perfect.

But when it does…

Day 300, Zero fin

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Love in the time of closets He was a secret tightly guarded. Every time he looked at me, a piece of the universe fell into its rightful place. Or all the pieces that have ever fallen into their rightful places flew back up and it was the beginning of the universe once again.

He was a secret I couldn’t quite keep to myself. Every time he touched me, I felt like building a galaxy out of the hairs on his arm. Or unraveling hair from hair from skin from bone until we were nothing but molecules. *** I think of that poem where Anne Sexton goes: As it has been said love and a cough cannot be concealed Even a small cough.

Even a small love.

What if he found out? *** Five of the most important events in my life: The family cat died.

The family died.

He happened.

I remembered the time when I got myself lost in the mall on purpose to test how much he liked me. I hid behind a stack of boxes, 254 steps from our point of separation. He found me 7,215 seconds later. To a child of ten years old, that kind of love would never ever ever fail. You’d think that would teach me not to test anyone anymore.

Then he unhappened. *** He happens like this.

We are older now. The years arrived and left without warning, without pause, without words. I keep thinking it must be time to leave for somewhere, but I don’t know where I’m going. Cars crash all the time, where would I go?

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It’s Christmas, and I’m alone. I’m alone at Christmas. You can rearrange words, but geography itself is more stubborn. I call him because he lives nearby but not near enough for me, and it takes me about an hour to gather the courage to dial. And when he answers, I tell him there’s a place in the city where you can watch the fireworks with an unhindered view. I imagine what we would look like: two men on a rooftop, their language briefly reduced to distant, brilliant explosions. I have never heard of anything lonelier. So we don’t go there.

It’s Christmas and he’s here with me. Among the moments that are slowly passing, one of them shatters the distance and it makes a sound like mouths touching.

Time feels like a transparent sheet of cloth. We’re falling through and completely unaware.

Certain scenes freeze forever like this: It’s Christmas again, and we are alone together. We are together, alone. You can change the words, but silence remains. He is in the living room and I am sitting in the tub, pretending to bathe because for some reason, I choose this moment to cry. I will never know how he finds out, because I haven’t even made a sound when he’s suddenly there, crouching before me. It’s only after he helps me out of my clothes and turns on the tap that I actually start sobbing. His fingers thread through my wet hair. He lowers his head and his shoulders start shaking. We can still hear ourselves above the flowing water. Mirrors mist over and steam rises, but we can still see each other.

There is a reason we chose this. *** And there is a reason he didn’t.

The look on his face when I tell him, jokingly, that we should run away, just the two of us. An answer comes to mind, comes to mouth, and falls flat to the ground before it makes itself heard.

He doesn’t find codependence funny.

It is the biggest argument we’ve ever had, bigger than the one we had about whether Batman or

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Iron Man was the best superhero. Nobody won in that fight. Nobody wins in this one, either.

I slam the door on my way out and walk down streets made of voices. I don’t think. I don’t try to make a decision. I take more than 300 steps away from him, or more. I don’t count anymore. I don’t count the seconds, either. That would be worse, because he doesn’t look for me at all. The seconds spin beyond 7000, beyond 8000, hours and hours and hours of doing nothing, of a car smashing through a revolving door, of realizing that I have not really talked to anyone except for him. *** He unhappens like this.

When I get back to my apartment, he’s still there. He hasn’t moved an inch from where I left him.

Wordless, hopeless, we drift toward each other like rocks in space. And when we crash, there are craters everywhere. We slow-dance to the silence. I wrap my arms around his waist like a man in the aftermath of a shipwreck. His fingers curl around the back of my head like he’s cupping water and he can feel everything falling through the gaps.

Not enough. Not enough.

We are slow to let go. We don’t ask questions or give each other platitudes. He leaves like he’s coming back, but I know better.

Alone, I lie down on the floor and stare at the light on the ceiling until I’m almost blind. The remnants of us are still falling all around me. No one wants to be responsible for my grief.

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The moon vacates its spot across my room past the thick brushstroke of pines The sea ravishes pushes and pulls, pushes and pulls steals the remaining warmth of the shore The door clicks, it reeks of alcohol, my father bends forward my mother flinches The dog howls, a woman screams The fist is in the right place, steady -- deadly The child is in the right place, shivering The sheets spread into eons This is tonight This is the usual

WITHIN REACH

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An Object at Rest Stays at Rest Raining. Ring in his breast pocket. Engine cut off. Thought it’d take a while.

A big surprise for her. A big surprise for them for the rest of their lives.

Crossed miles for this. Crossed miles for her. For what?

“What the hell?”

Raining. Cigarette smoke swirling. Too cold to be alone.

Couldn’t wait. Couldn’t wait anymore.

Took too long, is what she wants to say. You took too long.

Lace on the floor. Someone else’s pants on the couch.

“What are you doing here?”

“What the hell is this?”

“When did you arrive in town?”

“What the hell is this?”

Shouting. Can’t help himself. Hands curling into fists.

Feels like the world shrinking, too small for him to fit in.

Did he take too long? Or was he too soon? Don’t know. Don’t know anymore.

“It’s—this is—this isn’t—” Isn’t what? What it looks like? Can’t say that. Would be lying.

Already lied too much while there was enough road between them, enough time between his leaving and his coming back.

Five years, he said. Just five years.

Just wait. Wait, he said. Easy for him to say.

“Why?” How original. But what else is there to ask? Who is he? Why him? Does he look like me?

Does he look nothing like me? Is he bigger? Gentler? Harsher?

Why not me? Why him?

“Because he was there.”

Truth. There. She said it. Cheap, that’s what she is. Cheap and

easy and lonely and weak. The product of four years and a hundred miles. Grew away from him, herself, from them until they were nothing but a memory. The distance, she could’ve handled. But the days wearing on, turning their promises and dreams into history, into intangibles, into things that have come to pass and can never be retrieved— “Do you love me?”

Can’t believe she asked him that. She knows the answer like he does. Crossed miles for her again and again and again. All for her, for them. Future was uncertain, but they could try to make some parts of it certain.

Thought they were the part of it that was certain.

“Well? Do you?”

Was that the problem? That for her, time was moving too fast, too far, out of her reach and she just wanted the past to move along with it so it can be her present?

And that for him, the only thing that matters is what is ahead, not what is with him?

That he always lives in the moment after and never in the moment he’s currently in?

“No.” The word leaves him. He leaves her there.

Raining. Ring in his breast pocket.

Should’ve kept the engine running. Didn’t take too long, after all.

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Benti-Singko Benti-singko sentimo Ang turing ko sa ‘yo Tinatapon, tinatago Kailangan lang kita tuwing linggo Pandadag sa pamasahe ko Pero patuloy pa ring bumabalik sa bulsa ko.

Benti-singko sentimo Ang tanging wala ako Noong panahong kinailangan kong Tawirin ang distansya patungo sa ’yo Habang patuloy na hinahabol Ang nalalabing minuto ng buhay mo.

Hindi ako umabot, mahal ko Para sa huling hininga mo Sapagkat benti-singko sentimo Ang kulang sa pamasahe ko.

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Tuluyan Saan makikita ang paglubog ng araw at pagdaop ng mga palad? Puting langit na napapalitan ng puting kisame, tunog ng dambana na nagmimintis at hindi tumutuloy sa aking isipan. Saan?

Saan bumabagal ang paghabol ng aking katawan sa ‘di humihingang oras?

Ano ang dapat kong isipin para lukubin ng iyong liwanag, ang pagabi ko nang pagkaway sa mundong hindi ako hinihintay. Nakakatakot harapin ang isang bagay na walang pangalan, nakakapagod tignan ang pagkutitap ng mga bituin kung alam mong matagal na silang namaalam.

Paano ko hahawakan ang iyong kamay sa nalalabing limang segundo, paano ko hahalikan ang iyong labi para habang may tamis pa ito ay malasahan mo, paano ko sasabihin na gusto ko pa pero hindi ko na kaya?

Sana. Tumigil ang oras bago ito umabot sa isa, dahil sa panahong iyon hahagkan kita. Hahayaan kong malunod ako sa apat na segundo na kasama ka. Sisikapin kong kalimutan ang oras, ang pagbagsak nito hanggang lima. Ibubuka ko ang mata, babasahin ang iyong labi, ngingiti hanggang kaya ko pa. At tuluyan akong bibitaw, mabagal para makapaghanda ka, at kapag nadama mong wala na akong hininga, bumitaw ka.

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Sa Lilim ng Iyong Bisig Matagal pinagmasdan itong matandang puno.

Winalis at sinigan, mga dahong nalagas.

Alaala ng iyong mayabong na pagsinta.

Usok dulot ay asap, mahapdi, at namugto, mga mata’y naluha.

Sa pag-ihip ng hangin, sabay liyab ng siga.

Dinadama ang init tulad ng iyong yakap.

Unti-unti’y naabo, tumpok ng mga dahon.

At sa muling pag-ihip, ng malakas na hangin, tatangayin ang abo, ng mga alaala, at ang pangungulila.

Sana’y tulad ng abo, Ako rin ay tangayin.

Tangayin paitaas, palapit sa piling mo.

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Kasiping Ramdam ko ang init ng iyong paghinga. Sa madilim na kuwarto, humuhuni ang hangin mula sa bintana, kasabay ng marahan mong paghilik. Napakalapit. Pasado alas dose na ngunit hindi ako makatulog. Gusto kong titigan ka habang buhay pa ang pagmamahal.

Pawisan ang ating mga katawan. Pareho tayong nakatanaw sa puting kisame at nakikiramdam. Nilason ng usok mula sa iyong sigarilyo ang mahamog na hangin.

Ilang dipa lamang ang iyong layo ngunit pakiramdam ko hindi ako ang kasiping mo. Pasado alas dose na. Pareho tayong naghahabol ng hininga. Parehong nag-iisip ng bagay na magpapanatili sa atin sa kama.

Hinila mo ang kumot. Naramdaman ko ang lamig na dala ng bagong araw. Isang dangkal lamang ang layo natin sa isa’t-isa ngunit may mundo tayong tinatahak sa kaibuturan ng ating puso. Nakatalikod ako sa ‘yo. Narinig ko ang marahan mong paghinga, paghilik. Tinakpan ko ang aking tenga dahil nag-uumpisa na akong mairita. Hindi ko mabanaag ang oras. Matagal na panahon na akong hindi tumitingin sa orasan.

Narinig ko ang tamis ng iyong pagtawag. Nasa labas ako ng ating kwarto. Mula dito nauulinagan ko ang pigura ng dalawang tao. Magkasiping. Pumatak ang luha ko habang linalasap mo ang ika-pitong glorya. Sa bukana ng iyong

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mata nahanap ko ang taong kasiping ko noon. Narinig ko ang tamis ng iyong pagtawag sa diyos. Dahil ramdam ko na malayo ka na sa lupa. Siya lang pala ang magdadala sa iyo sa langit.

Lumakas ang aking boses. Nakatayo tayo. Magkaharap at parehong luhaan. Sinubukan mo akong lapitan ngunit itinulak kita palayo. Amoy chico ang iyong hininga, habang amoy sabon ang aking balat. Sa wakas nakalapit ka sa akin. Yinakap mo ako at inalo. Humingi ka ng tawad ngunit sadyang mahirap ng ipaglapit ang dalawang bagay na sa magkabilang direksyon nakatungo. Ang orasan ay basag kasama ng ilang bagay. Wala ng sapin ang kama at nagkalat ang kumot sa sahig. Humiwalay ako sa iyong pagkakakulong. Tinanong kita kung kumain ka na.

Umiling ka. Ngumiti ako at bumaba para maghanda ng iyong pagkain.

Ilang sentimetro lamang ang layo mo sa akin. Hindi ko marinig ang iyong paghinga. Sa labas ng bintana sumisilip ang maligamgam na sinag ng araw. Nakatingin ako sa ‘yo at inisip kung sino ka nga ba ulit. Ipinaglapit ko pa ang ating distansya na waring nauubos ito sa pagpatak ng oras. Hinagkan kita at inamoy. Malamig ang iyong balat kagaya ng temperatura kagabi. Kasiping kita ngayon at hindi ko mapigilang ngumiti. Ngayon tayong dalawa na lamang ang maghahari sa kamang ito.

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Don’ t Befriend Your Business Partners 1. come up with terms and conditions. be specific. be very specific. “feelings are off the table.” “and if feelings force themselves onto the table?” “then we end it.” physics will tell you to take it slow. remember that speed is distance divided by time so if you want this to last, widen the gap between you? between your thighs? (depends on the situation) lastly, sign at the bottom with the word that best describes the texture of each other’s tongues.

2. recommended contents of the terms and conditions: do not linger. do not memorize the shape of their nose. do not count their freckles. do not ask them about their playlist. do not tell them that the joints of their fingers feel like they were placed in those specific points with that specific distance between one another

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so they can curve against the nape of your neck in a way that makes sure every inch of their palm touches your skin. touching is free, but do not hold hands. do not hold each other. do not hold.

3. “where are you going?” “somewhere.” “it’s still early.” “are you asking me to stay?” “maybe.”

4. “don’t you have somewhere you need to go?” “it can wait.” “really?” “do you want me to go?”

5. science will tell you that it’s impossible for two objects to occupy the same space at the same time. you will tell science to go screw itself. and then you will screw. and then you will linger. like an idiot.

6. you want this to last. so do they. so take it slow. widen the gap. no matter what it takes.

7. “you’re seeing other people?” “the terms and conditions allow it, don’t they?” “do they know about us?” “what ‘us’?”

8. recommended additional terms and conditions: ‘us’ is not a word. ‘us’ is a principle that states it’s perfectly possible for two objects to occupy the same space at the same time by seizing time and eliminating distance. remember what science thinks about that?

9. “you can’t just go and see other people!” “and why the hell not?”

10. velocity is speed taking acceleration into account.

acceleration is equal to the number of idiots involved multiplied by the number of times they pretend the word ‘us’ does not hang in the silence between each conversation.

11. “i think we should stop doing this.” “i think so, too.” “right. it’s done, then.” “yeah.”

12. in another universe, before they walk out the door, you randomly bump into some random furniture with some random breakable object on top that will randomly fall to the floor and shatter. they pause. “need help cleaning that up?” “you know what, I think I do.” the mess you made is impossible to fix. but you both get down on the floor and try to pick up the pieces with your bare hands.

13. in this universe, you close the door behind them and listen to their fading footsteps. you go and see other people but you don’t know how to touch them.

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Lutang Magkatabi tayo sa himlayan, nakatingin sa iisang dingding at ‘di makagalaw. Tama, pareho tayong bago sa ganito. Pawisan ang aking noo, nanunuyo ang aking labi at gusto kong lumapit.

Lumapit hanggang mawala ang pagitan, lumapit hanggang maging isa ang ating balat.

Nakakatakot, ramdam ko ang iyong paghinga na tila kasabay ng pagpatak ng segundo, ‘di ko mabilang, nakakatakot bilangin.

Mabagal ang paggalaw ng aking kamay, hinaplos ko ang iyong pisngi. Malambot, madulas, puno ng paghanga at hiwaga.

Gusto kitang tuklasin at kilalanin, nais kong bulungan ang iyong kaluluwa hanggang malaman ko kung saan ka nagmula.

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Nakita ko ang liwanag mula sa binta, wala na palang ulan. Sa mukha mo nakita ko din ang liwanag. Ayoko munang umalis. Yinakap mo ako at tumaas ang aking balahibo, nanlamig ang aking katawan at nawala ang aking alinlangan.

Tinapik mo ang aking balikat. Gumising ako.

Nakatulog pala ako ng naka-angkla sayo.

Tinanong mo ang aking pangalan, kung nasaan ka, hindi ko maintindihan. Bakit kanina parang kilala na kita, parang natuklas ko na ang iyong misteryo. Pero heto ka nagtatanong, nagtataka.

Nagtagpo ang ating mata, hindi ko mawari kung nakikita mo ba ako. O kagaya kaya kitang lumalampas sa pisikal ang sinusuri. Naamoy ko ang iyong hininga, pinaghalong mentol at sigarilyo ang lumusong sa aking ilong.

Nagkalat ang usok mula kanina, pati na ang kutsara at pakete ng pinulbos na ligaya. Siguro nga nakilala kita, siguro nga naging akin ka. Ngunit umaga na, ubos na ang laman ng pakete, wala na rin ang panandaliang epekto nito. Kaya ngayon pareho tayong estranghero sa isa’t isa.

Naghiwalay ang iyong labi at lumikha ka ng isang ngiti. Nagdurusa ang ating katawan sa bagal ng pagdampi, pagsalo, pag-iisa.

Nakakunot ang iyong mukha, umiiyak, nagtatanong. Pero heto ako at nakatulala. Lula.

Lutang.

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FURTHER

“Move it,” she says. I set aside my body, let hers take my place My mother talks to her mother While looking at the pears and apples At the kitchen table, scrutinizing them Her mother’s voice like dust I stare at the outside, past the space we once were in She steals a glance, lets out a whisper I check on my mother, my skirt hurriedly catches the wind, no one will ever know

Ephemeral As my sands quickly pass and fade Let each grain be a memory a moment a monument And as the winds Carry my fragments along their gusts May traces of me continue To circulate your atmosphere

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The Roar of the Forgotten It’s easy to love something from far away.

You get a little too close and you start to see the paint that’s beginning to chip. This place was beautiful once. I know because I still see it somewhere behind the tall grass and broken windows. I wonder about the people who watch the places they love fall forgotten into the past. I wonder if I’m one of them. I wonder, too, if and they sparkle, get a little too close and you’ll see the rust stains. Maybe it’s all just a delicate dance between keeping the gutters clean and washing the windows right before it rains. That’s it, isn’t it?

The fear that you are a fixer – upper, and they’re looking for move in ready.

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Ang Papunta Sa sining ng pag-hihintay, ako ang papunta.

Ang inaasahang magdala ng saya.

Sa isang kwartong naguumapaw ang tuwa.

Dala ko ay luha.

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Susundan ng inyong mukha.

Hanggang sa pagtanda.

Sa aking pagpunta.

Magtatagal tayo sa gitna.

At sa dulo, ako ang matitira.

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Water’s Bloom You are the sea that beckons me, luring me into a trance, a siren’s song away from plunging into ten feet’s water bloom. And I, I am forever captivated by the waves that lapse onto the shore, in the secrets, in the depths that you hold, and in the victims of your call.

The sea, deepest blue to radiating green, I venture into your heart on a raft I’ve made with metal and a crew of men who never got sick of water nor of memories of home.

I grabbed a telescope and a map, I marked all the islands that you surround with an x hoping to search for treasures and skeletons of the past that remained.

But what was more important to me was how I got lost in your calmness and your storms, how I drifted to uncharted waters and territories unbounded by man and soul.

Yet you are the sea that beckons me, I am still entranced by the compass in my hand, fruitlessly trying to survive, hopelessly navigating through your sound color. And I am more than willing to become a victim of the siren’s song, and plunge into ten feet’s water bloom

73

Tulad Mo’y Baha Rumaragasa kang tubig, Papasok sa buhay ko.

At sa paghupa ay panay layak, At mga lumot ng alaala ang iniwan.

74

75

Tagu-taguan Maliwanag ang buwan tila lumalim ang karagatan nagdurugtong ating nararamdaman nalunod nang naghanap kung saan-saan Wala sa likod, tuluy-tuloy ang pag-usong Isang kabayong ‘di lumilingon malayong distansya naparoon hindi pa rin mahanap, nasaan kaya iyon?

Wala sa harap, Ilang milya at saka ako huminto hindi mapalagay aking puso nawala nalang bigla pabugsu-bugso Pagkabilang kong tatlo, habang pagod na mga mata’y nakapikit Sana’y ikaw ang nasa harapan ko susuungin kahit ano, kahit masakit Nakatago na kayo sa isang sulok kung saan malapit, ngunit malayong marating Talulot ng bulaklaking pagmamahal unti-unting nalagas sa ’king palad Isa… Dalawa…

Tatlo…

Hanggang sa nawala ka nang tuluyan.

76

Etude 1 I have a routine. Everyday, I wake up at 5:00 AM, cook breakfast at 5:30, and at 6:00 I would give the old guy his meal. After seven spoons into his breakfast (it’s always after the seventh, regardless of what I prepare him. Eggs, soup, oatmeal, I’ve tried), he will greet me, “Good morning,” then will ask, “Who are you?” to which I reply, “I’m your caretaker.” (Among all the responses I’ve done, that’s the one which won’t make him ask more questions.) Of course, everyone would be perplexed, waking up to be fed by a stranger. It’s always like this each day. The same conversation, the same questions, the same answers.

Of course it gets tiring. It gets dull. Sometimes I break my habit – my routine – and things get rather annoying. It was one of those days (perhaps I’m getting old myself); I saw from the corner of my eye the way the curtain swayed. How the wind blew. How the leaves of my jade plant on my study desk swayed. How I went to appreciate its beauty, then saw my scattered notes: sheets of paper scribbled and filled with musical notations. How I remembered the days passed.

I rushed out of the study, past the living room, and into the piano room.

Before I know it, the notes flow out of my hands. Like a river. It grows meadows under the April rain. Stretching far into the horizon, it travels, further, further, into the far reaches of space. Here, the music is like twinkling stars. And I pull them back, the notes get muddier and messier, gossip, chatter, we’re in the market. I know not where the notes are taking me (at this point my hands do all the work on the piano). Pitch black. And then, lights, we are on the stage, spectators, an opera, the conductor waves his hand in the air.

The strings join me, and together, holding hands, we bring along the audience.

77

I scan them briefly. It’s amazing that without words, their expression changes along with the music. I see a young boy, whose face is filled with inspiration (I know that feeling, lad, I’ve been there). I see a man not far from my own age, in tears (perhaps the music brought something up).

I see an old man. And right then and there, the opera shatters as I wake up from my trance.

“Young man, I remember,” he says. His eyes were brimming with life as he speaks right beside me in the piano room. “Back in the day, I would go to the music hall. I loved hearing my son play his concertos. It was during Tchaikovsky, Piano Concerto No. 1. He would guide us to places with his music. Through the gates of triumph, a small drizzle starts. Later on, a storm brews. And through the storm, all we see is the orchestra. Violent, yet graceful. Deadly, yet safe.

“Once the storm passed, a sweet, spring weather arrives. Birds chirp, and gentle rivers flow.

We see meadows. And suddenly, it takes us far, the music broadens, and I don’t know if it’s the lights, but we definitely saw the stars. It ends with cheer and applause. You know, I would forget myself in the music again, even for a moment. Thank you.”

I bite my lips, precisely because of that concerto, you lost yourself entirely. This is why I hate breaking my routine. It brings up unwanted memories. I close the piano and drape the cloth over the lid. I go back to my study to rest, but before that, I fix my table, and throw my notes away (I guess I’ll never finish them). Tomorrow, I’m going back to my routine. And tomorrow, he’ll ask who I am again.

78

PARTS OF A MAGAZINE Breaking news #1: The Cassini orbiter which was launched in 1997 to study Saturn and its moons now approaches its destination, taking the most breathtaking photos of the planet. Also, it’s about to go down in flames.

Breaking news #2: I grow a brain and realize we were never going to last.

Fun fact #1: Cassini’s mission lasted more than twice as long as NASA originally planned it to. Personally, I think it was natural for engineers and scientists to make a low estimate for an unpiloted drone. With that much distance, it’s not hard to feel helpless.

Fun fact #2: I once looked at the bend of your back and I wanted to touch you there, right between your shoulder blades, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Our eyes have a way of making things look closer than they actually are.

Fun fact #3: One night, it was so cold you had to wrap your scarf around my neck. And much, much later. Another night. It was just cold. Maybe we both forgot our scarves.

Excerpt from an article #1: Cassini plunged through deep space, guided only by radio signals. In this way we can say that Cassini is a projectile with an uncertain destination in mind.

Excerpt from an article #2: We were lying on the bedroom floor when I asked you why we were even doing this. You were quiet for so long you must have run out of answers. After a while you just told me that I wasn’t irreplaceable.

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Fun fact #4: It took 68 to 84 minutes for a signal from Earth to reach Cassini, and vice versa. The ground controllers couldn’t give real-time instructions, and if there was an emergency, they wouldn’t be able to do much about it.

Fun fact #5: Silence became a disease. It ate our conversations. It infected every walk home, turned every pause rotten. You stopped asking how my day went, and I no longer asked what you were up to.

Sometimes I wonder if I should have asked you at least once. Or if it would have made a difference.

Answer to Frequently Asked Questions #1: 99.99% of the known universe is composed of emptiness. Cassini saw much of nothing but kept going.

Answer to Frequently Asked Questions #2: When you’re both cold but you can’t even reach across the bed to brush against each other’s elbows, it’s time to leave.

Answer to Frequently Asked Questions #3: Know when you have ceased to matter.

Breaking news #3: During its last 22 weeks, Cassini made weekly dives between the planet and its rings. On its final orbit, Cassini hurtled towards Saturn’s atmosphere, which then reduced the spacecraft to ashes. It lost contact with Earth on September 15, 2017.

Breaking news #4: We were in your apartment when we decided to end it. I’ve left so many pieces of myself around your place and it took a while to pick them all up. We kept apologizing to each other and I didn’t know why. I left you there and took a long walk around the city, still looking for you.

80

Bodies, Galaxies, and Other Places You Can Get Lost In Name: ATLAS Description: contains electronic documentation of OP-RESCUE Wanderer I (failure) and later, OP-HOME; maintains Wanderer II’s living and recreational quarters Day 450, Wanderer II, coordinates unknown “The loneliness got to us. The stars have a way of shining that lets us know just how solitary we are when the distance is vast enough. Or small enough.”

Atlas listens to his voice and the way it breaks when the words no longer come easy. Atlas only learned this particular rhythm of speech on the Wanderer. Only the people here have sentences that snap and tremble.

Atlas knows it’s English, but the shaking and the choking is foreign. It’s not from another country. Maybe it’s the language of deep space.

“I want to go home. I want to go home so bad, buddy, but let me tell you about her—her—” He dissolves into silence for the longest time, the seconds ticking by, and Atlas does not know how to describe the look on his face.

Day 550 Today, she catches Atlas cleaning Room 1—Dr. Simon Roberts, it says on the door—and she makes a strange little sound that does not fit any of the categories in Atlas’ databank.

“What’s the point, you dumb little tinman, he’s not here, what’s the f—ing point…”

She leans against the wall, slides ever so slowly to the floor, and covers her face with a hand. Atlas wonders if she’s crying. Tears, it is known, is a sign of distress. Atlas looks through its archives for the appropriate protocols to deal with her, but before it can do anything, a voice calls, “Anna?”

She doesn’t answer for a while. Eventually, she stands up. “In a minute, Sam.” Day 600 “Brian’s already grown his first teeth by now; he was born a year ago.”

Atlas has heard about Brian. It was only a name during the first legs of their initial mission. He used to say, “Brian, if it’s a boy. Brandy, if it’s a girl.” On Day 235, Brandy fell away to impossibility and Brian became flesh. Sam cried.

The other eleven, including Anna, cried with him. Atlas could not see why they were so distressed about birth, and was not sure how to implement the appropriate measures to comfort such a large number of upset humans, so he cleaned their rooms instead.

“What would I tell Brena if—if we even get home?” he now asks. He is looking out at the great, untouchable space.

“How I can go back to her after I…” Day 750 At this point, Atlas already recognizes regret by the state of their living quarters. Sheets and clothes on the floor, hands and feet dangling past the bed’s edges, even breathing, the universe silent and still beyond the window, their voices softer than soft.

“What is there to go back to?”

“I don’t know, Anna.”

They shift in place. Skin brushes against skin. They sigh. She goes home by burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. He tries to find Brian or Brandy or his wife in the tangles of her hair.

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Day 1000 “This isn’t supposed to be what I’m recording,” he admits. “But all those depressing facts you already got there…” He taps the top of Atlas’ head. “The inhabitable planets orbiting their own emptiness, the too close to the star, too far, too uneven satellites, not similar enough to Earth…”

Inside Atlas, his voice flits to storage, filling memory slots with what appears to be a desperation to be heard. It only knows this because someone has used that phrase before. Desperation to be heard. Atlas scours through the records, records from Day 360 (the day they should have been on the course back to Earth), when someone else, someone just as lonely, said, “Those old f—ing d—heads can’t be bothered to get off their own a—es to scream their own screams out of some stupid desperation to be heard by the ‘others’, and now we—we—” Now Sam, looking down at a framed photo in his hands, laughs. Atlas can’t tell why.

“We’re never getting home, aren’t we, buddy?”

Day 1500 Atlas comes to Room 2—Dr. Anna Roberts, it says on the door—to clean. They’re both there, in the eye of a storm that has ravaged the bed and their clothes and their mouths, arguing again.

“Not enough fuel—sensors broken—an engine incapacitated—no more food—we only survived this long because the supplies were for a dozen people and ten of them are—are—” “What do you want to do, then? What do you want?”

This question, Atlas has noticed, comes up often. And when it does, a quiet so great it divides them swallows the Wanderer whole. They are left staring at each other, nothing left to say, nothing to argue about, nothing to fill the deep space that has seeped from outside and continues to eat their silence.

Atlas picks up the fallen blankets and begins to fold them.

Day 2000 The loneliness got to her. Atlas wasn’t there when Anna stripped off her protective gear and jumped through the hatch to embrace the endlessness of the unknown galaxy, but it detected the screams that sounded like ricocheting glass. Perhaps he tried to stop her, and he wanted to pretend that sounds and voices were bridges that could lead anywhere. Later, Atlas informed him that the raw mass of the space would’ve crushed the bridge. He did not understand.

Now Atlas sits in its container in the dark. No one has come to clean it for weeks now, and it’s interfering with its movements. Sam has forgotten Atlas, which, it thought, was slightly unfair. Atlas’ memories are full of Sam and his voice and his stories about Brian or Brandy (Perhaps there is a Brandy now. It has been years, after all) and his wife and her—her— Atlas is vaguely aware that the Wanderer is no longer a spacecraft.

It is a mass of metal floating in galaxies uncharted, orbiting its own emptiness.

Day UNKNOWN, Planet Earth Red, gold and orange leaves skitters along the foot of the tombstones.

Underneath are twelve graves filled with photos, suits, dresses, blankets, flowers, bracelets threaded with letter beads and forming the words B-R-I-A-N-S-A-M-B-R-E-N-A or A-N-N-A-S-I-M-O-N. By the time the Wanderer II was found, there were no more bodies inside, only dust and distance. A malfunctioning storage utility was retrieved from the remains of the vessel. No message from any of the crew survived time, except for a brief recording of an unknown man’s heart beating fast, beating alone, trying to defy the crushing quiet of the universe.

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Monumento 10 Things Nobody Says Out Loud Foresight Time Lapse Treeborn Mama Not Dead The Music Box Dancer Remind Me Generation Gap Verbatim The Physics of Want Drink on the Bar for Destiny Ang Mundo’y Isang Malaking Bangketa at Pag-ibig Lang ang Paninda Mo #20 Watercolour For Your Sake On The Way Conquistador Saudade From the Beginning Pressing Flowers Love in the time of closets An Object At Rest Stays At Rest Benti-Singko Tuluyan Sa Lihim ng Iyong Bisig Kasiping Don’t Befriend Your Business Partners Lutang Ephemeral The Roar of the Forgotten Ang Papunta Water’s Bloom Tulad Mo’y Baha Tagu-taguan Etude 1 Parts Of A Magazine Bodies, Galaxies, And Other Places You Can Get Lost In

literature

Literary Pieces (Divisions)

3 5 8 9 11 13 15 18 19 23 25 27 28

Felix Daniel Carlos Denise Ann Manzano Guia Marie Canonizado Ryanne Unarce Denise Ann Manzano Jill Bernardine A. Jarata Felix Daniel Carlos Franz Claire Del Rosario Heather Ann F. Pulido Felix Daniel Carlos Denise Ann Manzano Eloisa Faye Simon Bren Justin T. Fajardo

32 34 36 37 41 43 45 47 50 56 57 58 60 61 63 65 69 70 71 73 74 76 77 79 81

Felix Daniel Carlos Felix Daniel Carlos Ryanne Unarce Hazleih Joy V. Casabar Jermaund Ivan G. Junio Princess Lyka Dacapias Denise Ann Manzano Denise Ann Manzano Denise Ann Manzano Denise Ann Manzano Julie P. Simaurio Felix Daniel Carlos Michael Angelo V. Santos Felix Daniel Carlos Denise Ann Manzano Felix Daniel Carlos Jermaund Ivan G. Junio Tricia S. Candelario Felix Daniel Carlos Ryanne Unarce Michael Angelo V. Santos Juan Carlo E. Mateo Carlo Gatdula Denise Ann Manzano Denise Ann Manzano Franz Claire Del Rosario

photos Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled

1 3 4 21 27 29 30 31 37 39 42 43 50 51

Chickle Kate Dela Rosa Amir Bolinto Amir Bolinto Martin Cheung Danielle Herman Daryl Pangod Daryl Pangod Daryl Pangod Chickle Kate Dela Rosa Carl Kayne Valeriano Gab na PJ Jandel Buccat Amir Bolinto Daryl Pangod

Untitled The One I Once Knew Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Generation Gap Untitled Untitled Untitled Bruised Untitled Disarray in the Distance Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled

Untitled Untitled Bandila Arborem Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Merchant’s Ship Untitled Tagu-taguan Untitled Untitled Untitled

6 7 9 11 13 17 18 19 23 25 33 35 46 47 65 69 70 71 72 81

53 55 57 59 62 63 66 67 73 75 76 77 79 80

Daryl Pangod Amir Bolinto Junean Steff R. Bumatay Aldrin Agpaoa Carl Kayne Valeriano Daryl Pangod Martin Cheung Daryl Pangod Juan Carlo Mateo Amir Bolinto Oui Margarette Joy Dong-e Danielle Herman Lance Cruz Lance Cruz

Jodel Soriano Filmar Sualog Nobelio Mataag Sharmaine Alejo Jener Lubosen Kyra Eufelle Domingo Lian Avila Joshua Rillo Jodel Soriano Katherine Karen Nuguid Emerlee Rosbelee Sy Louise Mae Ferido Steven Estabillo Steven Estabillo Steven Estabillo Cristel Ramos

illustrations

White & Blue Editorial Board ACADEMIC YEAR 2019-2020

Editor-in-Chief Internal Associate Editor External Associate Editor Managing Editor Exchange Editor News Editor Features, Entertainment and Literary Editor Sports Editor Chief Layout Artist Chief Photojournalist Chief Cartoonist

Janric Bayao Jastine Christer Kabigting Kim Angela Santos Ayrton Cris Dizon Marc Jandel Buccat Zyra Grace Binwag Daniella Ivy Ducusin Jude Michael Gagarin Steven Ray Estabillo Daryl Pangod Kyra Eufelle Domingo

Senior Staffwriters

Anisha Myrdell Liwas, Ryanne Aina Unarce, Hedymir Fae Astudillo, John Joseph Dupingay, Meha Shane Damiyay, Grail Lubangas, Brian Andrew Milanes, Sharine Mae Ramirez, Ayra Kaye Tibeb, Jules Phillip Tillay

Senior Layout Artists

Myrisha Jhen Dela Cruz, Alison Kisha Louriel Tandoc

Senior Photojournalists

XVI

Literary Committee

Martin Shan Cheung, Juan Carlo Mateo, Amir Bolinto, Marco Antonio Ilagan, Lance Oneil, Danielle Herman, Lance Anthony Cruz, Sonai Longsiab, Kelly Caezer Molitas, Robe Martin Reyes, Carl Kayne Valeriano

Senior Cartoonists

Stephanie Imingan, Jerome Carlo Villanueva

Junior Staff Members

Renante Andres Jr. Literary Editor

Leah Monica Bandoc, Allison Binay-an, Dahlia Marie Elysse Camacam, Roselle Kaithrynne Celi, Vianca Joyce Cordova, Mikhael Raeon Felix Ebalo, Sheryl Lai, Japheth Lance Pecaoco, Phillip Jerome Posas, Athena Myrrh Puday, Rio Jane Rabaca, Bianca Irish Rivera, Stephen John Sabadao, Mercy Grace Tacloy, Hanna Rouie Tamayo, Emmanuel Tinio, Jamyla Uy

Jastine Christer Kabigting

Chriselyn Alconis, Cyber Domingo, Julian Luis Padilla, Elyzsa Renee Jasmine Paje

Layout Artist

Heather Ann Pulido Denise Ann Manzano Angella Joyce Joves Franz Claire Del Rosario Felix Daniel Carlos

Jeremy Joshua Dupli Nobelio Mataag Danielle Herman Daryl Pangod Diwata Donato

Literary Committee

Junior Layout Artists

Junior Photojournalists

Shirleen Joy Aronchay, Angellie Eunice Baluyut, Margarette Flor Curilan, Andrei Francis Rod Gasmen, Emmanuel Gregorio, Maecille Lacamen, Rvie Keren Nafianog, Aldrich Francis PeĂąaflor, Andrew Seno

Junior Cartoonists

Angelo Antolin, Naomi Bumal-o, Jonekah Alexine Catadman, Andrely Ciano, Luwy Jane Colina, Carmella Fria Lao, Janine Edriz Laureta, Karen Faith Nuguid, Jayne Macrine Sayson, Khamilla Mae Sualog, Mary Rose Tiongco

Advisers

Engr. Jeffrey-Des Binwag, Mrs. Analyn Caroy

Mga Pasasalamat MGA TAGAPAYO AT INSPIRASYON: Almighty God, DU30?, Father President Gilbert Sales, Dr. Miel Albert Laoyan, Engr. Jeffrey-Des Binwag, Vice Presidents Noel de Leon, Roberto Arguelles (also sir Noel Pangilinan), Jason Barlis, Sir Andrew Macalma,Ma’am Triceayn Prestousa, Sir Edward Kidayan, school deans and associate deans, Daddy Mon Mojica and Magicus Junctra Corporation, byebye Enriquez bros hello Diamond bros (wemiss Domoguard), College Editors Guild of the Philippines, White & Blue Bathalas, supporters, bashers at sa mga Louisians sa matagal nang naghihintay ito na po ang bagong Kuwaderno!

MGA HOSTSPOTS AT SPONSORS: Presswork venues: Ali’s, Dan’s, Bryan’s big brother house (#depresswork) and SC06.

Food and drinks: 7-eleven, McDo, MacsBox, Kubo, Goodtaste, Volante, Steaks & Toppings, Victoria Grocery, at mga ibang lugar na hindi puwedeng banggitin. Hihi.

Orgs: UP-Baguio Outcrop, BSU Mountain Collegian, UC Alternative, PMA The Corps, SEA The Buttress, SAMCIS Schema, STELA Stellaris, DebSoc, CCPG, SSC and other neighbors.

MGA RAKET AT KUNG ANU-ANO PA: Friends we’ve made: Lambakan peeps, OSSEI peeps; RHEPC and LHEPC peeps from Palawan, Baguio and Pampanga, NSPC-BSPC peeps from Cebu; Democracy and Disinformation Consortium, Rappler u da best!

ANGELLA: Thank you Almighty God for all the blessings, to my parents and sibs; Yay for Kuwad and for this space for my pasasalamat! =) Unending thanks to all those people who never give up on me and to those who believe in me; Rica Soriano, Jerico and Rainier; Vianca and Deanne, Daryl and Kirstie; Marlon, Milyn and Ira; Adam.

Comm friends, Medtech, STELA and SEA friends; To the best-est housemates ever: Guinne, Hervae, Ayan, Shane, Maika & Gayle and Jessie.

To the Masscomm World, na hindi ko pa rin sinusukuan kahit ang sakit sakit na – To my White&Blue family sorry kung nag-hiatus! I’m back for good – Thank you for all the wonderful opportunities na binigay niyo~ Thank you sadness for all the good and the bad, for the growth and for everything in between.

And lastly, thank you dear self – for choosing you this time. *LANY music playing* ANISHA: Yow. Thanks to everyone bothering to read the stuff ive been writing for the past three years. Yayy!! To the great people who come and go, have fun chasing your dreams and take care. To those whom i never got to speak with because of this id eating me up, thanks for the things you did consciously and unconsciously. I’d love to see you doing great in the years to come. To the Supreme Being from wherever side of the universe, thanks for giving me a fine framework for my morals. See

you sa next Kwad and W&B issues. Hopefully. Have a good life CARLO: Huling pasasalamat! Orayt! Isang yugto nanaman ang magwawakas. May 1 year pa sana ako para tumagal naman ako sa W&B (dejoke). Hindi ko mapapasalamatan lahat, kaya salamat nalang sa mga naging relevant sa akin sa taong ‘to. Salamat sa thesis group ko: Ner, Franz, Keanu, Kharly, Jeddy, Furu, at sa mentor naming si Jorda-- Sir Jordan. Salamat kay Ma’am Soriano na kahit late ako parati ay tinatanggap pa rin niya ako. Salamat sa kape (as usual). Thanks din pala sa Volante, magbigay na kasi kayo ng suki card. Follow niyo nga pala ako sa IG for art things: @cdgatdula.

Tapos edi ko alam kung makakalusot eto, but anyway, music recommendations! Olivia Ong, Brave Bird, Flyleaf, American Football, Tiny Moving Parts, Nightwish, Touche Amore, The Narrative, You Blew It, Modern Baseball, Foxing, Funeral Diner, Earthside, TTNG, Circle Takes the Square, City of Caterpillar, 1905, Old Gray, Neutral Milk Hotel. Marami pa pero yan muna. And last, tumigil naman na siguro magbasa yung iba, may gusto akong pasalamatan na kaibigan. Naging malaking bahagi ka sa college life ko. Salamat sa companionship. See you whenever.

CHICKLE: First Time on Kuwaderno! I’d like to thank every member of White and Blue, especially the technical department, to my senior photojournalists, to my fellow SABM students, Entrep Family, all my Louisian and non Louisian friends who never failed to support me in all that I do, Thank You All! Joining White and Blue has been my greatest achievement in college so far, and so I’d like to thank God for everything, for letting me meet amazing and talented people. And Thank You for the staff who handled this semester’s kuwaderno, you all deserve the love!

CLARENCE: With these words, I acknowledge the love and support of my family who have crafted dearly upon me a life that is forged by the force of determination and directed with a tenacious mind-set that refuses to give in with the challenges of the inevitable hardships of tomorrow. I thank my mentors who have been very remarkable figures in shaping my identity into a daring individual who will walk throughout the world knowing that a mission to work is a mission to serve. I would greatly like to thank my rivals who have fuelled my fiery drive to be a competent person and I am blessed for the thrill of the fight and enjoyment of the battle. I am very grateful to my friends (close or slightly close) for sticking with me through thick and thin and I would love to share to them a message written by John Churton Collins and given to me by one of my closest which reads: “In prosperity, our friends know us; in adversity, we know our friends.” God, Eternal Father, continue to watch over us, Your children, as we continuously learn the meaning of life that we shall have to experience in reality.

CINDY: A good foundation confects us to become more than what we are now. Thank you PJ’s for making this lat year the best year for me as a PJ. Be better than me and help each other grow as a PJ and keep comradery going not only wiht our department but with others as well. Thank you to my fellow W&B walnuts and berries for the high and lows we have experienced (*insert names here*). yung mga late night talks, efforts na ibinuhos para sa org, muscles na nabuo dahil sa distribution, and most specially the diverse characters I have encountered. Thank you Φ.

DANIEL: Dahil unang pasasalamat ko ito, babatiin ko muna ang Pamilya ko na nagturo saaking maging pala daldal, sa pagsulat man o pag sasalita (kunyari orig) then sa friends ko na laging nangungutya sa bilbil ko (labyu guys). Salamat din sa members ng white and blue na very warm ang pag welcome saamin (Ate Denise. Thanks din sa mga paalala at turo). Huli na to, salamat sa kalayaan na ibinigay sa akin upang maipahayag ang makata (ehem) kong utak, gamit ang pagsulat at pagkanta ng wala sa tono. Yun lang.

DARYL: I want to thank W&B and its photojournalism department for this new adventure that you

have given to me and Sophie (my camera’s name). There were a lot of things I have learned ever since I got accepted in the organization and I know that there will be a lot more as we go on. I also want to thank my other org, SEAHS, for the massive support and encouragement (Thank you din pala sa mga go-to-models ko diyan. *wink*). And of course, here’s a huge thank you to my friends, my photographer colleagues, my family, and lastly but mostly importantly, thank you God for everything. Special mention to Boss Cindy, Andrey, Jhen, Kuya JP, Ate Corinne, Maryll, Soul Mica, Soul Joyce, Janikka, Kate, Ronald, Bryan, Brent... yeah. Until then.

DENISE: I’m gonna stop thanking all the usual people I keep thanking. Except you, $n3l3mr3yaczlooboj Association, because tradition is tradition. The rest of my thanks go to all my notebooks and all the pens I’ve ever bought. And like Sam Sykes, I’d like to thank my crippling anxiety and paralyzing sadness—without you, I wouldn’t be able to write sh*t. Thank you, Sam Sykes’ Twitter, J.K. Rowling’s Twitter, and other funny and awesome people. Thank you, me. Heh. Thank you, White & Blue, for things I’m too lazy to list. Let’s leave it at this: you gave me a voice and taught me to use it well. I promise to stand against silence. I will take you with me everywhere I go. Thank you to the people of White & Blue, for things too many to list. Let’s leave it at this: you gave me my safe place and made it adventurous. You never made me feel left behind. Lastly, to those who read Kuwaderno and our other pubs: Readers are the lifeblood of writers. Thank you.

DIWA: “Pagurin niyo na habang bata pa.” Thank you so much ates and kuyas for making me part of the EdBoard/Admin Board at a young age. I will always remember each of your advice and I will use all that I have learned from all of you in my remaining years in this publication. To my family: papa Toots, mama Daisy, kuya Jabi, ate Daph; to my friends: Aletha, Cess, Cy, Gee, Goya, Joy, Lei; to all writers, photographers and artists of W&B; to the readers and also to non-readers; and of course, to Andrea, my unending poem; thank you for always supporting my W&B thingy. As much as I love what I am doing, I still feel limits, I still feel fear. But I will keep writing, not for myself, but for who I am writing for.

FRANCIS: Finallyyy!!! First Kuwad where I’m actually in it (YAS). I just want to thank my great friends (y’all know who you are) for listening, reading, and believing that I’m good enough, my family for supporting and understanding how much writing means to me, W&B and F&E peeps for being awesome guides, God for giving me hope, that one Spotify playlist that always puts me on a writing mood, and my dear self for actually trying to write again. YOU GUYS THANK YOUUU. HANNAH: YEY! First pasasalamat! Thank you po, White & Blue, for making one of my dreams come true, for giving me more than an experience. Thank you, fam (especially to my mom) who encouraged me to join W&B, to Ma’am Che for introducing me to Journalism, Fantastic 7 (Ahlora, Angely, Khryss, KC, Ira & Chesii), my dyosang friends (Alana, Badette, Chey & Xylina) and lastly to my roomies na mahilig magpakain (Ate Jane & Paupau), SALAMAT NG MARAMI! Labyu, mga bes!

You’re the best people in the world.

HAZLEIH: Here’s to everyone who is here and who used to be here. Here’s to everyone who misses home. This is for the people who are waiting for someone or something. This is for the people I never thought I would be friends with. This is for everyone I used to know who still smiles at me. I would like to thank the people who always listen to my complaints and stories. Thank you also to those who share their stories to me. To the people who made me feel that I’m part of something important, thank you for being with me.

HEATHER: Although we’re more likely to remember firsts, I believe there is a sharp, larger-than-life quality to our lasts. For my final pasasalamat, I’m risking the ire of some good people by going specific (Yikes! Sorry). Profuse thanks to the following: the Spirit/s that govern the Universe, my beautifully resilient mother and grandmother, my comic brothers, the rest of my family and our family friends, The Juno Abreu (my best friend and life partner), Team Tangkad (MartyRia, LeeceaMahal, Beloved Blessie, Sisterette Daisy), precious friends in STELA, SLU, ebriwer [Kalachuchicrush, Mga Pards, Ma. Carlo, Ma. Vianney, and T&L squad-my fave bading queens, ReinhardT, Concha & Katkat, Direk Elly, Jennylabs, SheryLamok, JoanGirl, Inay Fely & Tita Ash, basta BLOCK411FAM, BrenSwift, LAHAT NA], my inspiring titsers (especially Mamitita Jerrel, Mommy Dhots, Mother Busbus, Ma’am Del Rosario, Ma’am Ace, Ma’am Liz, Ma’am Edith; SAO FosterFam; Sir John, Sir Art and CERCfam), my makulit students from SVISHS and SLU LHS (I heart you!), WHITE & BLUE BERRIES from SY13-14 til 16-17 (You. Are. Awesome.), Sir Miel?, White & Baguio beans and Breakfast Clubbers, Cindy, Angella, Kuya Red and whole FNE FAMILIA, Achi Melrose, Jude, Dada, and my other children, The Unstoppable SLU DEBATE SOCIETY (Sending love to you all, from the alumni to the babies!), fellow Peer Facilitators & the counselors, SMFI and kapwa Iskos, my OSCAR “cools” and the alumni community, Baguio poets/artists (Sir Jordan!), Elem/HS bffs, and to everyone and everything that made Louisian life worthwhile. Words run out but my gratitude will last.

HENEZA: First and foremost I would like to thank the Lord for giving me the chance to be a part of something amazing. To my friends and family who gave me strength and to the people who inspired and motivated me and made me realize that real reason I do what I do. You guys know who you are. Cheers!

IAN: Thank you to the people who matter to me, even if they dont know that they do. Thank you for the shared moments, the talks, the laughs, and all of it. Thank you for sharing a slice of your precious life with me. I wish you all luck and happiness in your life! I shall see you when i see you ??been giving me advises (You know who you are guys). My college life has been extra special thanks to White & Blue and the people in it.”

HIROMI: “I’d like to thank the White & Blue family for the experiences I’ve had with the org this previous years. I’ve met different people with really different personalities and was able to make new friends. I’ve learned the consequence of missing out responsibilities and the joy of being able to fulfill something in the org. I gained a better understanding on what journalism is and what the world of it is like. I really want to thank all those people who supported me and has always been giving me advises (You know who you are guys). My college life has been extra special thanks to White & Blue and the people in it.”

IRISH: To my family for the unending love and support, to my girlfriends who always inspire me to be strong (Rai, Rheina, Pia and Preshy, Heart), to my boy bestfriends who always hear me out (Karl, Em-em, Leds, Hari), to my W&B Family for instilling in me the idea that I can do more, to the Sports department for being an inspiration and above all, to God Almighty who is the source of my strength and knowledge, I’ll be forever grateful.

JANRIC: Pangalawang taon ko nang magkaroon ng pasasalamat dito sa Kuwaderno (wooh!).

Siyempre, gusto ko munang pasalamatan ang pamilyang White & Blue sa pagtanggap sa akin at sa patuloy na pagbigay ng mga pagkakataon tulad nito. Salamat din sa Quibads at Valencia’s sa paghahain ng aking pananghalian araw-araw. Sa Faber-Castell Black Ballpen kahit ilang beses mo na akong iniwan sa ere at hindi na nagsususlat lalo na sa mga quizzes at exams. Sa Stabilo Boss Yellow Highlighter at naging katuwang kita sa mga digmaan laban sa assets, liabilities, at capital.

Salamat din sa mga taong nabanggit ko na sa una kong Pasasalamat. Sa aking pamilyang 4-Science na parati kong babalikan. Sa BSAc 1 Block 2 ng 1st year at Block 5 ng short term na hindi mauubusan ng mga dahilan upang ako’y patawanin. Pramis, sana maging magkakaklase ulit tayo. Salamat din pala sa mga taong nakasama ko sa ikalawang taon ko sa kolehiyo na sina Janelle, Justine, Tony boi, Dan, Angel, Achi, Lyra, Raphy, at Wiwa. Ang dami kong natutunan mula sa inyo tungkol sa iba’tibang bagay. Panghuli at pinakamahalaga, salamat sa pamilya ko, sina Ma, Pa, Kuya, at Ic-ic, na parating nandiyan para sa akin. Mahal na mahal ko kayo.

JEFFREY: Again and again, thank you Louisians for supporting Kuwaderno and White & Blue. In this age of information, we need things like these to lighten up our hearts. I hope these great works at least tickle your emotions like a lot of people did to mine. I want to thank you all: Farmers for the rice, drivers for taking me to school everyday and everyone behind making everything we do possible; My family for always being supportive; My best bros and beer buddies Erwin, Eumir, Jayson,**written high five**; Sir Ace, Jason, and Buboy of Calle Uno, I learn a lot from you; Of course, White & Blue for all the new lessons and experiences; And to everyone, learn, live, love, forgive, laugh and let go: Once in a while, sit back, forget the world and realize that we are all writers, we are all poets in this life.

JENNIFER: Another year passed full of different hues, some are bright while others are dark. The people behind each hue, THANK YOU. JENNYSOL: To God, I am thankful that despite the challenges, white&blue still continues to be an outlet for the Louisian community’s voice. Thank you white&blue for letting me be a part of the family kahit na madalas akong wala. Thank you sa inyo, keep the fire burning! Rawr. Power!

JEWEL: Unang-una, Salamat Papa God sa overflowing na blessings, guidance at regalong talento.

You the best po! * Sa Angkang GAMUEDA, sa hindi matatawarang suporta, pa-meryenda, pa-cake tuwing madaling araw at sa walang sawang pagkatok sa aking silid-tulugan magising lamang ako. * Aunt Love, sa pagpirma sa lahat ng Consent forms at waivers. * Sa aking papa in heaven, I hope I made you proud! * Kuya Miaok, financer ko sapatos, bakasyon at second course. * Chiki, sa pagpush every year para i-try ang WnB. * Sa naging panel ko (Ces, Kolat, Chiki), Thank you for giving me one shot of a chance. Sa mga kapwa ko cartoonist lalo na kay Yvette at Ian salamat sa pag-risk na isali ako sa listahan ng First ever RHEPC ko. * ARKIbigans at friends sa social media, SALAMAT sa pag-LIKE sa mga pagmamaganda ko, kayo po talaga ang pinaghuhugutan ko ng inspirasyon sa aking mga likha. * Jollytown friends (Hannah, shelly, leah, Karen, clariza, ayen + maria at dyan) * Clingy LDR BFF’s ( juzt, bec, det, mau, gen, lindz, roe, alf, gara, bhunny ) sa pag-B-BI, sa pasalubong, pakain at pakape. Thank you for uplifting my spirit everytime and in everything.

JHEN: Una sa lahat gusto ko po na magpasalamat kay God dahil ako’y nakapasok sa W&B at nakilala ko ang mga bumubuo nito. Para kay L na sumuporta sakin simula pa lang sa aking pag-sali dito (kahit nung first year pa na’ting dalawa gusto makapasok dito) at hanggang ngayon. Para sa mga magulang ko na naging dahilan kung bakit ako’y nabuhay at nakasali sa school publication na ito. Kila Kuya Josh at Kuya Caloy na gumagabay sakin sa layout department (thank you po). Para sa taong hinahatid ako at hinihintay sa labas ng office tuwing ako’y pumupunta doon (kilala mo naman na kung sino ka, jk HAHAHA) alam mo naman na ikaw ang tinutukoy ko dito A, sobrang nagpapasalamat ako dahil walang sawa mo akong sinusuportahan sa mga ginagawa ko dito noon pa man. At para sa mga taong di ko pa nabanggit, gusto ko din kayong pasalamatan, kaya SALAMAT. JILL: Salamat. Sa oras na inilaan para sa piyesang nagbabalik-tanaw sa nakaraan. Sa panahon

na umangkop saaking mga kamay nang aking isinulat ang nagkukubling istorya. Salamat sa inspirasyon na nagtulak saakin para isulat ang kwento natin. Salamat sa mga taong nakapaligid saakin at tumango sa mga salitang nakalimbag. Sa White & Blue, na tumanggap saakin sa likod ng marupok na pagsulat, sobra ang pasasalamat ko. Ang pinakasentro ng lahat ng ito, lahat ng piga ng utak ko (kung meron man), ang Maykapal na hindi ako pinabayaan, maraming salamat Sa Iyo. JUAN CARLO: Unang-una sa lahat ako po ay nagpapasalamat sa Panginoon at ako ay humihinga at nakakakain ng maayos. Malaking pasasalamat rin sa kapapanaw na Lolo (Nicanor Mateo) na isa sa pinakamalaking inspirasyon ko ngayong mga oras na ito, hinding-hindi ka namin makakalimutan at mahal na mahal ka naming Tatay. Hindi rin mawawala si Mami at Dadi na nagtataguyod sa aking pag-aaral at pinakamahalaga, sa paghuhulma ng aking pagkatao. Taos-puso rin akong nagpapasalamat kay Nanay, Mama, Papa, Mateo Family, Egana Family at Santos Family.

Nagpapasalamat rin ako sa aking bestfriend na si Alex Cabatit sa walang hanggang pagsusuporta sa akin (I hope that you’re reading this) pati na rin sa Fallacy Four (Boss, Kyle Godfrey w/ Bem :D), JLOPC Fam, kala Carlo, Jolo, Jhayzel, Mama Nelle, Ruki, Mr. Wusso, Papa Cedric at ate Ynna. ISLAW Band at Newton sa inspirasyon at di mawawala ang nagbibigay ngiti sa aking buhay, walang iba kundi ikaw JOEI ;). Nagpapasalamat rin ako sa mga nilipasang pag-ibig. I miss you Ate Monica, this one is for being a good Ate to us and giving us the best vacation we ever had. See you soon :). Ako rin ay nagpapasalamat sa W&B family dahil wala ito kung wala kayo.

JUDE: Salamat sa aking mga magulang, mga kaibigan, mga guro, at mga ka-White and Blue. Salamat sa hangin, sa mga sinag ng araw, sa lupang dalisay, sa tubig na umaagos sa mga bukal at ilog. Salamat sa Panginoon, sa mga santo, kay Hesukristo, at mga anghel. Salamat sa buhay na ipinagkaloob sa atin. Salamat kay Lyra. Salamat sa mga bituin na hindi nagsasawang nagniningning sa kalangitan.

Salamat sa buwan. Salamat sa pagpapatawad. Salamat sa pusong naghihinagpis. Salamat sa mga sugat. Salamat at mahal kita. Salamat at hindi mo ako mahal. Salamat, natututo na ako.

KYRA: Thank you White & Blue for helping me express myself through art, and for a new family as well! To my family and to my friends, (Queenie, Cam, Kesley, Agz, Hazel, Rachelle and Phoebe) thank you for the endless support and inspiration! I couldn’t have done it alone. And to YOU, though I know you won’t be able to read this, thank you for inspiring me to do art again... Thank you for bringing out the “artist” in me again. :) LAUREN: Thank You God. Walang hanggang pasasalamat White and Blue sa mahigit apat na taong pagsasama. Salamat po sa mga taong naniwala at nagging dahilan upang makasama ako sa White and Blue. Maraming Salamat sa aking mga magulang –Larry at Rebecca sa tiwala at suporta ninyo. Sa buong Photojournalist Department [Cindy and Hiro] maraming salamat sa patuloy na pamamahayag mula sa inyong mga litrato. Salamat sa buong BA Communications Department Batch 2013-2017! Congrats Rea and Jek. Thank You Ma’am Amadeo, Ma’am Tibaldo, Ma’am Lor, Ma’am Aletheia, Ma’am Apol. Sa mga nakasama ko sa bawat productions, overtime at overnights, thank You-Frameworks. Powerhouse. Viewfinder. Project Tungkod. Comcast. Sa PIA-CAR thank you po mga Sir and Ma’am. Shout out kina Heather, Denise, Sheena, Lyca – Sobrang tibay at galing ninyo.

Thank You sa inyo! :) At sa buong Louisian Community, maraming salamat po sa inyo.

White and Blue Thank You. I love you. I’ll miss you.

“Every moment I spent with you shined. Because the weather was good, because the weather was bad and because the weather was good enough. I loved every moment of it.” [Goblin, 2017] LIANNE: I feel grateful and happy kase this is my first pasasalamat. Honestly, I never plan or thought I would be part of this org White and Blue kase it is very spontaneous and out of the blue

decision na magregister. As a junior Louisian student studying BA Communication, being part of this org is a wonderful experience because I really have this love for writing since I was in high school and continuing it in my college experience is a great opportunity and great feeling. Gusto ko po magpasalamat sa mga taong naniwala. Gusto ko magpasalamat sa biglang pag-aya saken ni Shairalene Guerrero na magregister. Gusto ko rin po magasalamat kay Dee Cabel na more than my best friend na parang kapatid ko na not by blood for supporting me nung final interview ng screening and kila pareng Mcrey Fonacier at CJ Ritualo for being there with me. Salamat rin po sa editor namin si Anisha for leading our news department. Sa mga co-staff ko po maraming salamat!

Sa aming EIC na si Ate Heather. Salamat rin po sa mga bago kong nakilala at nakatawanan sa loob ng office ng White and Blue. Salamat po sa paglabas labas sa café last sem at pagshare ng movies dahil pinafeel niyo po na I am part of the org. Salamat rin po sa mganaging kaibigan ko last sem at mga kagrupo ko pong nakakasama nung Magazine days. Maraming salamat po! Iniaalay ko po ang lahat lahat ng ito sa parents ko po kay Lord God at sa sarili ko po. At dahil wala naman po akong botyfriend ever since hehe gusto ko magpasalamat sa mga naging inspirasyon ko at mga naging crush ko at salamat na rin po sa mga taong nagpafeel saken na wala akong kwenta kase napatunayan ko na may kwenta po pala ako sa mundong ito hehe. Salamat po sa lahat ng bumubuo ng White and Blue! Love you all and may the force be with you!

LYCA: For the past four years in W&B, I have learned that distance means time and that time is indeed gold…VERY expensive gold, so thank you to the following people who gave their time and crossed the distance for me. I love you. This is for you. To the family that I am so lucky and immensely grateful to have: Marciano, Yolanda, Yolymar, Ianlee, Arcyl, Joan, Nathaniel, Irish, Irros.

To the closest friends I miss: Lyka, Neil, Shaira, Adonis, Nyvz, Thea, Jenikka, Judy, Rayel, Anne. To respected people who guided me: Ma’am Loi, Sir Areola, Sir Mon, Sir Miel, Sir Kidayan, Ma’am Trish, Sir Macalma, HRH, W&B Bathalas and awesome alumni. To those who make us feel a full range of emotions: The Louisians and SLU admin. To these great, talented and supportive people who chose to stay and who always make the weight more bearable: Sheena, Heather, Dens, Josh, Cindy, Mel, Joves, Red, Caloy and every single one of the current W&B staff. To my companion in solitude: Cloud.

To the me in solitude: Z. MICHELLE: Thank you so much White and Blue for the opportunity and also to my family and friends for taking the time to listen to me whine about nothing and everything all at o MJ: I want to take this opportunity to thank slu for many things. Thank you for isolating us in bakakeng. We really admire your effort in creating our own university as the main pips have said.

Thank you for giving us a variety of awesome instructors who are very much willing to give us spare time to have a quality time for ourselves. We have a lot of catching up to do. We admire your hospitality and love while we are bombarded with amazing projects and requirements. Only the deadlines made us inspired to finish. Thank you for white and blue family who really are there. Keep on molding students to their amazing state. To ate lauren and ate cindy who really pushes me to do my best. Thank you po. To all of my friends, thank you for giving me a reason to hold on. I owe you mga besh.

MARK JOHN: First and foremost, I want to give my ‘pasasalamat’ to Almighty God for this humbling experience working with the White and Blue people. You guys are just amazing. I want to express my heartfelt ‘pasasalamat’ to this organization slash publication, for guiding me in contributing something on the pages. It really means a lot to me. White and Blue reminded me that with perseverance, nothing is impossible. I also want to extend my ‘ pasasalamat’ to my friends, to my ka-pol-sci for being truthful, for your genuine intervention with me in this world-of-make believe.

Lastly, I want to congratulate myself for conquering fear and partaking on this one of a kind journey with White and Blue. I am still in awe right now for having these blessings. Surely this certain chapter of my life will be highligted on my book. Maraming salamat po! /* MELROSE: Manipod idi nagrugi ak a miyembro iti daytoy a gunglo, nagbalinak a maysa nga napudno ken nasirib a mannurat. Iti pannakasurok a makidanggay kadagiti padak a nalinteg ti pinagpanpanunot na a tattao. Iti pannakabalin ko a kas maysa nga kabsat ken gayyem kanyayo amin. Iti pannakaited kanyak ti napateg a parte kadaytoy nga gundauay. Amin daytoy a parabor ket haan ko pulos ninamnama ken inpagarup nga mapasamak. Gapo kadagitoy, naamiris ko a sadinnon to man iti pakadanunak, sitatalekak to latta nga agserbi a kas maysa nga Louisyano.

Papa, Mama, Achi Rej, Achi Neri, Shobe. Rigat ken sakripisyo yo ti nangited kanyak ti pigsa ken anus a mangleppas amin dagiti ubrak.

Liza, Mica, Heather, Lyca, Denise, Jude, Angella, Sheena. Yamanek unay iti panakilangen langen yo.

Iti panakigayyem yo ditoy numo.

Apo a nangparsua kadakami amin, itdem kad kanyami iti grasya ken bendisyon ti nasayaat a biyag.

Dios unay ti agngina.

NATHALIE: There are times that I wanted to stop fighting the current pulling me into the deeps and just drown. But there are people who are like a whirlpool under my feet, guiding me towards the surface. I know I couldn’t thank them enough but let me say ‘thank you’, anyway. To God, who never let go of my hand. To my family, especially my mom and dad who are always there for me and supports, loves, cares for me more than I could ever understand. To my friends who still hangs out with me even when I am full of abnormalities. Hindi ako nakapagpasalamat last year so “Huling” pasasalamat kina Carlo, Julienne, Judy, and Chris, salamat at congrats! <3 NIALL: Sa mahal kong pamilyang sumusuporta at patuloy na nagmamahal, sa ikalawang pamilyang mas inilapit ako kay God, sa matatalik kong kaibigan na walang sawang nakikinig at umiintindi sa mga kwento at kahibangan ko, sa taong nagpaalala sa akin paano muli makaramdam. Sa malamig na gabi, at mainit na kape, sa madramang buhay at walang sawang cliff hangers at twists. Ang hugot na ito ay di mabubuo kung hindi dahil sa inyo. MARAMING SALAMAT!!!

NOBELIO: hmmph...wooh.Lord thank you for letting me share my talent through W&B. To my friends, family, at sa mga instructor kong nakikipagsabayan magbigay ng requirements, maraming thank berry mats po :-) RALPH: Maraming salamat po sa lahat ng mga tumulong sa ‘kin na magsulat, at nag-encourage na dapat kong ipagpatuloy ang pagsusulot ko sa oras na nagdududa ako sa aking sarili. Maraming salamat po sa aking mga magulang at mga katapi. Maraming salamat rin sa WnB. RAPHAEL: YOHOHOWN! Isa nanamang successful na release! Salamat sa mga umeffort, at sumoporta! I want to thank the people who keeps on pushing me to “perfect” my art, hihi, kilig si acqoe. HAHHA tama na ang drama, basta thank you, thank you! Lalong lalo na sa fvcclets! Kina Rod, Joven, Enzo, Lester, Sean, Shann, sa mga nakakausap ko kapag kailangan ko, and for those who come through when I need them most. Solid kayong lahat, mahal ko kayo. Shoutouts po pala sa Legacy Clothing Co, Budget Line, SABM Seminary, at Janet’s! WOOH! Change the world, amen, peace!

RED: There is no shortage of anything to be grateful for.

I thank the higher power that I believe in.

I am grateful to my mother, Liza, who endured a great deal in life, going against all odds for me.

Also, thank you to all my relatives who supported me in every possible way. To my cousin, Genel, thank you for being there amidst all the secrets, laughter, and crises. I wish us success in all our future endeavors.

To my circles of friends, thank you for both willingly and unwillingly accepting me in your lives.

Life wouldn’t have been bearable without you: Xavie, Florie, Lheryz, Karen, Angela, Angella, Eloiza, Giovanni, Jerome, and others who impacted my life one way or another. You are sunscreen to all these sunburns.

To all chemical engineering students who faced and understood hell in the course, thank you for always inspiring me with the constant show of commitment in continuing this challenging choice of course and career.

To my beloved White&Blue who made college a lot more interesting and worthwhile than it should be, our bond is more than just on paper. I love the diversity, conversations, plans, poems, books, wisdom, and the mere existence of everyone. You taught me a number of things that the academe cannot – thank you for these.

To all the challenges I’ve succeeded and failed, thank you for coming and destroying and building me as who I am right now.

To all the incoming challenges, bring it on. Thank you.

RYANNE: I would first like to thank God for the wonderful people who have inspired me to start writing, without them, I wouldn’t have had the guts to sign up. To my family who has always supported me, thank you for instilling a great amount of determination and perseverance, because of you my passion for writing never wavered. To my buddies, 12 am and 2 am, you were both witnesses to every single idea I rushed on random papers and furiously typed on any electronic device. To Tumblr, for broadening my perspective on how our society dangles precariously on every single person’s opinion and their belief for being right all the time, and for making me aware that the internet is indeed a scarily influential place. To my friends who have a natural affinity with the smell of old and freshly printed books, thank you for welcoming me into the world of literature and for suggesting wonderful and meaningful stories that have truly had an impact on my life. To those who have left, thank you for allowing me to grow into a better and more mature person than I was before. To the person who stayed, thank you for staying. Lastly, to you who is reading this right now, keep writing, if you want to write then write, never stop writing and allow yourself to be molded and inspired by the mistakes that you committed, you commit and will commit, and it will make the words all the more beautiful.

SHEENA: Last na to! Unang-una sa lahat, nagpapasalamat ako sa Diyos sa pagguide sa akin all throughout. Sa breakfast club at white & baguio beans (Lyca, Heather and Denise) omg I will miss you guys and thank you! We should really go out (soon) and not think of work related stuff (*wink wink). Walnuts and berries! Salamat sa limang taon na tawanan, iyakan, at lahat na ng pwedeng masabi. Thank you! Salamat sa good vibes at sa kaingayan na dinulot mo sa office Angella! Sa mga masisipag na pumupunta sa office, salamat at tumatambay parin kayo (shoutout to Ian, Josh and Daryl). To the news department, more power! Sa mga bathala, salamat po sa mga advise at pangaral ninyo sa amin. At sa mga hindi ko namention, salamat sa inyo at nandito parin kayo sa White & Blue. Salamat sa mga friends ko (mga bebs!, mean girls, mga ka-PS at mga ka-OJT), mga ka-214 na umaasang gagraduate on time, mga CE instructors at sa mga taong nakakasalubong ko. Salamat sa pamilya ko- kay mama, papa, ate karen, ate kim, janjan at maan- salamat at nandyan kayo at salamat sa inspirasyon. At last na talaga to mga pards, salamat sa inyo na nagbabasa nito at sa mga nagbabasa at sumusubaybay sa mga nilalabas ng White & Blue! Salamat!!

SHIELYNNE: *epic music a rockin’*

Xie xie, my ever lovin’ and ever supportive family for inspiring me throughout, for bouquets across the miles and aromas across the galaxies. You are my best people. I love you so much! <3 my spiritual brothers and sisters for their prayers, for sapphires and diamonds, and almonds, too.

Let’s keep the faith ablaze! <3 Walnuts & Berries for treasures and blue jays and more. Just… thank you! <3 my friends for the cheers, the moments etched in crystals yonder, for dolphins and whales. <3 my other friend, the owl, and all o’ you people! <3 I thank our precious and most gracious Father in heaven, above all, for His constant love, care, wisdom, and guidance. I may fall sometimes, I fail, I take paths askew, but He never ever gives up on me. I thank Him for the strength and courage He always gives me when I feel like drowning in the quandaries, the mess, the confusion. I thank Him…for the compass, and for everything.

THEO: “The progress we need to improve requires plenty of change, yet my daily jeepney rides require way more change.”-Jose Rizal, 2010 The aforementioned quote is false. I just wanted to start with an unfunny saying just like most generic thank you notes. I’d like to give thanks to a few important people. JJ and Hiro, thanks for getting me interested in W&B in the first place. Jhay, I can’t be thankful enough for a myriad of things, mainly, pushing me on even if I thought otherwise and sticking through all the good and bad parts of the year. Parents and Big Sis, thanks for supporting my contributions for white and blue. Friends (Marco, Isra, Wyatt, Andy… and the rest, sorry mga pre kulang ngay talaga yung space hahaha), thanks for spending time with an annoying and loud piece of feces, like myself. Before I end this note, I’d like to give other artists like myself a few words of wisdom.

“Your art, big or small or abstract or concise, it shall be art and no one can say otherwise” –Pablo Picasso, 2013. That quote was also false; I just wanted to end my entry with cheap inspiration.

WILSON: We have to live with the knowledge that life is full of mountains, and that our efforts may not make us reach every peak, and our energy to climb down on the way to the next mountains, exhausted; in which case, you will have to need the strength of others in order to persist pain, overcome obstacles, come back from a failure or defeat, and thus, attain victory and success…

I would like to express my warmest and most heartfelt gratitude to the people who have been part of the successful undertakings that I’ve had, but most importantly, to the very persons who have been with me and stayed with me in the last days of my college life, especially in the most crucial and decisive moments. To my companions who have given me hope, in the times when I was about to give up; who have inspired me, when my mind was demoralized; who have withstood my mistakes and ignorance, despite that they could have given up; who have given me the strength to fight on, and claim victory in the end, in those times when I could no longer raise my arms and was about to admit defeat. Really, I thank God for giving me treasures such as you.

Ps. Annie, sana kapag sa time na nabasa mo na ito, eh, nagbati na tayo… Ayieeee…

YVETTE: To my family, my friends, my love and my God, I give you all my thanks for allowing me to create. Thank you to the authors and poets, for putting to words the very concepts of time and distance. Thank you to my fellow artists, for giving life and reality to every piece. Thank you to the readers, for whom we work for. Thank you to White & Blue, for providing a platform to all kinds of visionaries. No matter what, may we all carry on.

ZYRA: “To w&b, for accepting me as part of your family this school year; to my sister who have been supportive as always, my family and friends, SwissMiss, Milo, Nissin Noodles, and to Father God, arigatou gonzaimas for everything.”