Katitikan Issue 3: (Re) Imaginations


What Comes Next
Sigrid Gayangos


The Ticket
Rochelle Ann T. Molina

Walang Susing Musoleyo
John Paul Albiola

Taglunod, Tagsunog
Erika Carreon

Gabriela Baron

How Sitio San Roque turned into a Garden
Reil Benedict Obinque

Cesar Miguel Escaño

Erika Carreon


Brixter Tino

Mirick Paala

Mirick Paala

Pula Ang Unang Kulay ng Bahaghari
Mirick Paala

Calle Burgos
R.B. Abiva

Elehiya ng Talisain
Jhio Jan Navarro

Joshua Mari Lumbera

Mga Bulong ng Isang Bugkot Mula sa Biringan City
Mark Bonabon

Mula ng Tuwa Namin
Dennis Andrew Aguinaldo

Jennifer Ebdani

awit sa langgam
Jennifer Ebdani

Infinite Backyard Choreography
Hezron Pios

Hip-hop in the Time of Appendicitis
Hezron Pios

Night Walkers
Rochelle Ann Molina

Salaysay ng Hindi Ko Sinali sa Opisyal na Ulat
Ben Aguilar

Ben Aguilar

Wika ng Pagdamay
Kristoffer Aaron Tiña

Ang mga Hindi Nakarating
Kristoffer Aaron Tiña

Ronel Osias

Stay at Home
Ronel Osias

Affected Sectors
Ana Margarita Nunez

Jenelyn Garcia

Sa May Divisoria
Jules Yuan Roldan

Jules Yuan Roldan


The Social Semiotics of Our Sensibility
Lakan Uhay Alegre


Ram Meris

Doktor Wakwak
Sharon Almocera

Jayne Arianna Grace Gotera

What Comes Next

Almost a year has passed now since we started living this life in pandemic limbo. “Unprecedented” is a word that has been thrown around, just as metaphors comparing the virus to a war waged by an invisible enemy have become ubiquitous. Through language, we are conditioned to think of militarism as positive and necessary in combating this crisis—unconsciously consenting to draconian security measures because they are done under the name of public health. Not only is the war metaphor dangerous and wrong, it also reduces the complexity of the problem into something as simplistic as ‘beating the virus’, without first examining the systems in place that allow its proliferation and the catastrophic impact it brought along. The only thing this pandemic has in common with war is what it has in common with other collective crises: it exposed all the ugliness and inequality of the society which we participate in.

Definitely, there are other metaphors. And while they might seem lacking or imperfect, too, they can help us rethink this crisis. In Arundhati Roy’s provocative essay, she likens the pandemic to a portal: 

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Taglunod, Tagsunog

The First Arcology

When they had begun building the arcology it didn’t have a name. Many had not heard the word before, did not know the origins, and their minds fashioned an Ark of incredible size. It was beyond language and therefore beyond imagination. 

They were the dreamers with means. They wanted to dream their way out of the impending doom that came with the floods that always every year seemed to grow higher and higher, scorning every tired, inadequate effort to tame them. They had cast their dreaming eye upon the dark, clogged rivers and the worn cement of sinking cities, saw the cobbled houses on stilts with their patchwork roofs that lined the waterways and sewers and said We will make for them a new kind of city to unburden the old. When they closed their dreaming eyes they saw the arcology, able to feed itself and power itself, an organism not unlike a tree, needing nothing else but good land and the cooperation of all its parts, ready to survive into the new age. 

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The Ticket

Boys grow up to be men. And it’s men who cause all the trouble. They’re the ones who shed the blood and poison the earth.” – Stephen King, Sleeping Beauties

ONE SUNDAY MORNING, the world woke up without women. No man really knew what happened. Were they abducted by aliens? Were they all kidnapped by a mogul? A male news anchor on TV screamed, “We’re happy the transgenders and intersex who are biological glitches are gone but where the hell did our wives go?” News on the Internet kept announcing reward money from Caucasian men for any one with leads as to where their wives and children have gone. Even the male presidents and prime ministers did not know where their wives went or where they have taken their children. One Sunday morning, the world woke up without women. Of course, wherever the women go, the children go with them. 

As to Rolando Magsaysay, a Filipino with a sound mind and body at age of 35 years old, his world suddenly become at a standstill. He woke up expecting her wife and children at the dining table waiting for him to join their breakfast. Instead, he found the house empty. There was no laughter and heavy steps from their seven-year old daughter Charo and his three- year old son Gabrielle. There was no kitchen smelling like pancakes and coffee. There was no one but him. 

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Walang Susing Musoleyo

Nilalampaso ni Titser Jane ang sahig ng musoleyong putikan dahil sa pag-ulan kagabi. Ginawa nila itong panandalian na silid-aralan para sa mga batang nakatira rito sa sementeryo ng Brgy. Mayapis. At hindi sila ngayon makapagklase dahil sa kapal ng putik na pumasok sa loob nito. 

Kasalukuyan siya na tinutulungang maglinis ng mga bata na kaniyang tinuturuan. Nilapitan siya ni Chelsa na tila balisa.

“Titser Jane sabi po ni Loloy na sabi raw po ng Mama niya kapag namatay raw po ang tao nagiging lupa ‘pag matagal nang nakalibing. Tinatakot niya po kami Titser Jane,” sumbong nito habang pinipilit na hindi maiyak.

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