Ninah Villa

Forays into art, travel and short prose by a scribe in transit

[ninahvilla]

Beautiful, unforgettable Camiguin. Your gift of peace is unforgettable.

[ninahvilla]

“In his cell, with his elbow upon the window sill and his pale, worn cheek resting on the palm of his hand, he was gazing silently into the distance where a bright star glittered in the dark sky.” — Noli Me Tangere (The Social Cancer) - Chapter 5 Jose Rizal (translated by Charles Derbyshire)

[ninahvilla]

“There were the same streets and the identical houses with their white and blue walls, whitewashed, or frescoed in bad imitation of granite; the church continued to show its illuminated clock face... “ — Noli Me Tangere (The Social Cancer) Jose Rizal (translated by Charles Derbyshire)

[ninahvilla]

The soft, quaint, elegant beauty of this island invite you to snooze away endless summer days.

[ninahvilla]

The wrath of nature spares none of the trappings of human empires.

[ninahvilla]

Complete version of my fragmented chicken soup.

[ninahvilla]

Camiguin and its seven volcanoes. The Island Born of Fire!

[ninahvilla]

“But whether from carelessness or other cause, Padre Damaso received a plate in which a bare neck and a tough wing of chicken floated about in a large quantity of soup amid lumps of squash, while the others were eating legs and breasts, especially Ibarra, to whose lot fell the second joints.“

--- Noli Me Tangere (The Social Cancer) Jose Rizal (translated by Charles Derbyshire)

[ninahvilla]

“There they were, close together and safe and shut in; yet so chained to their separate destinies that they might as well have been half the world apart.” 

-Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence

[ninahvilla]

“I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.” - Faramir

-J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

[ninahvilla]

As we ponder on his supreme sacrifice, earthly lords, unable to abstain from arrogance and conceit even on a holy day, litter the path to Golgotha with names, faces, slogans and utter lack of good taste. And the faithful, who pray for salvation from the rule of these hooligans, build their own memorials of glittering rubbish, offerings to a still suffering savior. Sacrilege of the current sort.

[ninahvilla]

Armed with the incurable presumptuousness of their race, those vulgar sons of the earth came in droves, only to smash their crude vessels at the foot of a most hideous siren perched upon the jaws of the sea.