In protest

THIS COLUMN will be happy. It will revolt against itself. The words will slick on red lipstick; the verbs will step into high heels. Sentences will saunter barelegged in a blackout, will swing up to the painted green top of a damp table to dance in the blinking light of mobile phones just before the batteries die. Punctuations will boogie to graffiti and bop to vodka, will dance until the heels slip on spilled ice and a sky the color of Juan Ponce Enrileā€™s hair opens in needle-lashing rage.
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Jul 17, 2010 under Opinions, Politics | no comment

Calloused

It is a day when the yellow heat licks through rubber slippers and thin cotton shirts, a day when car windows are rolled down and car accidents happen on street corners where blue-uniformed policemen are stationed. To my left, a blond bombshell in a black lace bra smirks from a mammoth Guess billboard. High on the balcony of a dingy three-story apartment, three bare-chested boys watch the quiet march.
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Dec 9, 2007 under General | no comment