That afternoon of mist and drizzle, Clara Barcelo stole my heart, my breath, and my sleep. In the haunted shade of the Ateneo, her hands wrote a curse on my skin that was to hound me for years.

“I looked up towards the immensity of the labyrinth."How does one choose a singl…”

“They teach us that human beings learn and absorb ideas and concepts through nar…”

“To truly hate is an art one learns with time.”

“Myths and legends, either about divinities or the formation and history of peop…”