From Dumaguete, a tale of superstition, surprises, and the things that go bump at night. Story by PETRA MAGNO, Art by ROB CHAM
I think about you a lot, Dead Marga.
These days, it only takes YouTube and Garage Band (the app, not the ratty after-school band your kuya used to be in) to make a rock star. Still, there’s a lot to be said about performing in front of a live audience — it gives any musical act the kind of street cred that no amount of page views can beat.
Abandoned houses are left locked and untended for reasons unknown to the passerby.
It’s no coincidence that the fire and brimstone over Jennifer Laude’s murder is inextricably linked to three things.
While the city endures the last few gasps of the rainy season, there’s no shame in erring on the side of caution, ditching far-off plans, and staying indoors.
We get it. There’s nothing more tempting than to spend your sembreak in a catatonic stupor. Three weeks of movie marathons, minimal showers, and twister fry deliveries? Sign us up, stat.
Admit it, life can be pretty mysterious sometimes. From the weird flying objects in New Mexico to why your crush didn’t text after promising that he would, and even those strange scratch marks on your laptop — there are just some things that are plain unexplainable.
Justifying our love for fashion can be tough work sometimes. Sure, stocking up our closets is primarily a matter of survival, but even we have to admit that 45 pairs of shoes for two feet can be a little ridiculous. (But so very awesome.)