Chances, chances, and more chances.

By Isabel Rodriguez

 “And I also regret not writing more when I was younger..”, I told my father. And just as those words escaped my mouth, I realized; I had so many regrets.

I used to think that getting older leaves you with less chances, as if time has the power to turn you into a a withered, helpless pulp.

Manong Driver

By Jacob Clavano

It was a humid afternoon when I took a cab home. Like many others in the city, the cab didn't look too clean and comfortable to ride on. And like many others in the city, I didn't mind because I was used to it and I wanted to go home already.

From the client's office, we took to the back streets--the many little arteries that support life in this dirty city--and within moments we were already along the expressway to the suburbs. The ride was uneventful until the cab driver embarrassingly told me that he did not know the way to Alabang.

On the things I've become

By Isabel Rodriguez

I was reading an old friend’s blog when I realized that I’ve reinvented myself so many times. (Admittedly, it wasn’t just the blog. A barrage of old photos that have surfaced because of Multiply closing down, added to the discovery of my first blog’s password may have amplified this recollection.)