Dead Stars

Today, I emailed a link of Paz Marquez Benitez’s short story, Dead Stars, to a couple of my friends. I can’t believe they haven’t encountered this bit of Philippine lit so much glorified during my lit classes back  in college.

Love—he seemed to have missed it. Or was the love that others told about a mere fabrication of perfervid imagination, an exaggeration of the commonplace, a glorification of insipid monotonies such as made up his love life? Was love a combination of circumstances, or sheer native capacity of soul? In those days love was, for him, still the eternal puzzle; for love, as he knew it, was a stranger to love as he divined it might be.

I read it again just now and ended up having a heavy heart…

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