I am off to Dumaguete in a few hours to indulge myself in literary bouts between the greats and the mavericks. Tomorrow is the inauguration of the 48th Silliman National Writers Workshop, the oldest creative writing workshop in Asia, and I agreed to yaya this year’s fellows—just like what I did last year when the annual yaya, Ian Casocot, suddenly went out of the radar. I hope we’ll get along, especially that the presence of Niño Manaog (fellow for poetry in this new batch) will surely be felt on and off the sessions. He is just as chatty and whiny as a little child. Peace Lolo!
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