Comments Posted By aasupremo
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It came in one of those carboard boxes I knew would come every Christmas. It smelled of distance and packaging tape, of my mother’s efforts to ensure the box remained in tact. If only the airplane would fly my family home instead of another box of shampoo and polos.
» Posted By aasupremo On 12.15.2014 @ 6:50 pm
Towering overhead was a fort–brick layered over brick, the grid of mortar telling of the sweat put into its construction. There was no way around it but up, making it that much more daunting.
» Posted By aasupremo On 11.30.2014 @ 11:43 pm
The music was thick in the air, infusing the entire room with a sadness whose depth pierced the skin of even the maestro conducting the affair. It would be the last time he would perform for her.
» Posted By aasupremo On 11.30.2014 @ 12:46 am
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Going to the palengke was always a stressful time for Maribel. The first time she went, she lost herself in the countless aisles of fresh blood-red meat and half wrotten fruits. She would drown in the yells of sellers and buyers, constantly bargaining to bring food to their families’ tables in one way or another.
» Posted By aasupremo On 11.28.2014 @ 10:40 pm