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Today, when wireless technology seems to have taken over every aspect of our lives, a longing for what is handcrafted,...
Get a fresh new look right in the comfort of your home. That would be the easiest way to describe...
THEY SAY there are many lessons to learn from gardening. In this age of multiple distractions, it requires us to take in time, deal with change, be still, and be patient.
Intuitively, you felt something unusual, a change in your bodily functions, maybe some pain or bleeding, and you went to your family doctor. You were referred to an oncologist, a biopsy was done, and if the report was positive for cancer cells, you were given the ghastly news.
Plant nurseries are curious places. They deal with the transience and mutability of nature: decay and rebirth, a lack of permanence, and the fact that everything is dependent on something else. Imagine then a garden within a nursery, set on two hectares of fertile land, and you get an idea that this garden, which is an extension of the nursery, changes with two seasons of wet and dry.
I envied the custom-made bookshelf of hard wood and beveled glass but I wanted the books he had in that bookshelf even more.
Casa Tesoro was a stately home on A. Mabini Street in Ermita when the district and its surrounding arrabales like Malate were enclaves of landed gentry with second homes. The mansion was built as a vacation house and once marked a whole neighborhood’s genteel and patrician identity.
Old soldiers never die. They just fade away. And that was how my father went, in his home, in his bed. A month before this, he was rushed to the hospital with chills and a high fever caused by what turned out to be complications from renal failure. His kidneys were barely functioning, and the only life-prolonging choices left were hemodialysis every other day, or a transplant.
Ditta Sandico’s grandparents Manuel Sandico and Pilar Hizon built the house in 1927. In this house, Ditta’s father, Fernando Hizon Sandico, came into the world. Fernando was the fifth in a happy brood of eight children, with Mayorico, Pergentino, Benito, Luz, Caridad, Orosia and Donatila.
A drug lord was going to be executed that dawn. In the stillness of that morning, we heard the volley of shots. They sounded like they were coming from my headboard. I learned later in the day that a man was sentenced to death by firing squad, and it happened in the target shooting range, a 15-minute walk from our house. No wonder.
