№ 284. Friday Dipped in Poetry

“If I believe in anything, it is in the dark night of the soul. Awe is my religion, and mystery is its church.”  ― Charles Simic

The Meaning of Life

№ 283. Reading for Wisdom and Folly

"Deep reading cuts into your soul and shapes you like real life experiences. Few of us have deep experiences but we can all read about them and thereby experience them; in my view better—with the wisdom of those who actually lived them and the luxury of reflection."

№ 282. Tradition and Prejudice

"The bird that would soar above the level of plain tradition and prejudice must have strong wings."

Kate Chopin

I watched Michelle Obama (FLOTUS) speak at the Democratic National Convention. Inspired, inspiring and hopeful! Just what the world needs, just about...now. 

№ 281. Palate Wonderland

Toilet door at VASK

Two Sundays ago, we had fun dining in this feast-of-the-senses, molecular-gastronomy-inspired bar and restaurant in the quiet side of the Bonifacio Global City.

Because it was drizzling that early evening, we missed out on the al fresco night view of Makati. No matter. The snappy service made up for that missed opportunity. And both the edible and non-edible art pieces more than satisfied the senses.

Scallop and Black Ink Risotto: Squid Ink, Tinawon
Heirloom Rice, Parmesan Chips and Green Asparagus

№ 280. Thursday in the Desert

Oil Lamps at the Studium Biblicum Franciscanum
Flagellation Monastery (Via Dolorosa)

“Those who saw so dimly could be further blinded by the light of full revelation. Jesus, therefore, does not reveal with complete clarity the true nature of the messianic kingdom which is unostentatious. Instead he filters the light through symbols, the resulting half-light is nevertheless a grace from God, an invitation to ask for something better and accept something greater.” Living Space

№ 279. Stay

Yoko Ono

It burns beneath
the boundaries of your skin
lined against mine.

№ 278. Mad World

From An Atlas of the Difficult World
Adrienne Rich

I know you are reading this poem
late, before leaving your office
of the one intense yellow lamp-spot and the darkening window
in the lassitude of a building faded to quiet
long after rush-hour. I know you are reading this poem
standing up in a bookstore far from the ocean
on a grey day of early spring, faint flakes driven
across the plains’ enormous spaces around you.

Atlas of Prejudice

№ 277. The New Silk Road

New Silk Road