I had a brief conversation with a renowned Filipino fictionist Prof. Jun Cruz Reyes during a literary skills seminar for student writers. He told me, "The most dangerous form of censorship is self-censorship."

I still think about it.


Yet another piece I wrote for the literary folio.

An Ode to Noone

Look at this head: a comical-looking sphere of paperbag peel with a doll head’s eerie geniality; perhaps awfully generic and prosaic, lacking the animation and color of a jester’s blithe guise.

Ponder the monotony of these eyes. They are but a couple of half moons; an occassional well of salt water tears in times of aloneness or as an aftereffect of an inexplicable backwash of a dismal weather.

Yes. She is hollow like a sad child-ghost.

Perhaps they shall never figure out the oddness of her being. Why she dreams in closed spaces, one could only decipher. She appreciates the shadows; they are more generous than the luminescence of dawn, it seems. The sane deems her unhinged.

She's a poet, you realize.

However, she sometimes attempts to escape. Everyday, unknown to you and me, she runs.