By Fr. Flor Lagura, SVD
In the Service of the Word

LONG before Pennsylvania’s capital was founded, a Greek king had dedicated for his truly loyal brother and gave it the name Philadelphia, “the city of brotherly love.” And centuries before Tom Hanks took the main role in the popular yet rather controversial movie entitled “Philadelphia,” Jesus gave an example of manly love for another man. This was during a time when high profile leaders like Alexander the Great and Nero exhibited unnatural tastes in sexuality.

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By Aireene Dacoscos

HE’S 20 years old, yet he believes he’s still ten. But don’t underestimate him. He knows how to work; he knows how to live.

If you happen to drop by the stretch of Purok 3 in Upper Kamputhaw, try to ask anybody if he has seen Manoy. Expect to be questioned back, “Ngano man, naa kay ipaalsa (do you want something lifted)?”

I have known Manoy more than a year now. He’s quite friendly. He hisses to catch my attention. Smiling amiably, he asks, “Aha man ka (where are you heading)?”

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By Russ Ligtas

Until now,
I wonder

Why you chose
to stay angry
after I brought
your heavy watch
back from my classmate
I got it back, didn’t I?
I was a high school freshman.

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By Lawrence Ypil
dog-ears in the wrong notebook

AND already the odds are up that this will be a short piece on summer. Or heat. Or taking a vacation to the latest “find,” the hottest “discovery” (meaning beach, meaning sand, meaning mountain rest-house with thankfully running hot water, because civilization has reached this reprieve enough for a road to wreck a few flowers, or the hull of a boat to destroy a few coral beds (if not a real bed)).

Or it’s going to be about what we all imagine summer to be: that last-ditch attempt to finish (or begin) a book, catch up on our DVDs (if not on some errant friendships), and work at pretending that the air condition comes free, or that we’re students again (and not really working in this heat), or that this isn’t the rest of our lives facing us like a rusty bus.

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By Neile Genica I. Mijares

I RIPENED early at the age of 10.

It was a crimson spot on my shorts like an apple viable for harvest. This I noticed one summer when I woke up at midmorning and panicking at the sight of blood. Quickly, I called my mother who hastened upstairs to my room but then burst out laughing. Between her efforts to put off her amusement and keep my bewilderment at bay, she explained in her most comforting manner–I was already a woman in the most technical sense.

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