Tuesday, July 21, 2026

Pahina Hinahon: When Peace and Justice Remain Ideals Worth Fighting For

Today’s awarding of the PBBY-Salanga and PBBY-Alcala Prizes brings to mind the challenges of creating children’s books in a time of chaos, conflict, and uncertainty, when peace and justice remain ideals worth fighting for.

What stories do we tell children when the world feels fractured? How do we write hope without ignoring suffering? How do we nurture empathy without looking away from injustice?



Perhaps this is why children’s literature matters more than ever. Every story we write, illustrate, publish, recommend, and share becomes an act of faith in the kind of world we want children to inherit. Stories remind us that kindness is not weakness, courage often begins with ordinary people, and even in the darkest moments, compassion can light the way.

Congratulations to this year’s PBBY-Salanga and PBBY-Alcala awardees. Thank you for continuing the work of imagining better futures for Filipino children: one story, one illustration, and one young reader at a time.

May we never stop believing that books can help raise a generation that chooses peace over violence, justice over indifference, and hope over despair.


 

Monday, July 20, 2026

Growing Through Stories: Paalam, Puti

 

Growing Through Stories: The Zimbragatzees of the Planet Zing

Sunday, July 19, 2026

When Seoul Surprises: Who’s the King? Who’s the Boss?

On our last day in Korea, we traveled to MBC Dae Jang Geum Park in Yongin, home to one of South Korea’s largest historical drama sets. It was there were my favorite Kdramas were filmed, Jewel in the Palace, Scarlet Heart Ryo and The King’s Affection. As ARMY, it was extra special because it was where Min Yoongi filmed the music video for Daechwita. Standing inside Injeongjeon Hall, the throne room where the music video was filmed, was awe inspiring.

The palace sits on top of a hill beside a mountain with the view of earth and sky. As much as the palace grounds and surrounding efifices recreate Joseon era Korea, the terrain was perfect for it. I was truly impressed at how art and culture is being managed and restored. And to think that we didn’t pay any entrance fee, it was really a treat.

The palace was magnificent. The painted folding screens. The lattice windows. The long stone courtyards. I walked from throne room to where Agust D moved between king and rebel. Daechwita kept playing in my mind and I can’t help but recognize once again this masterpiece of an anthem.



The other night, I started watching East Palace. Within minutes, I paused. The throne room. The palace doors. The courtyard. It all looked familiar. The same spaces where Agust D once became a king in Daechwita had become the royal palace of another story.



It made me smile. Korea has surprised me once again.

#KdramaIsLife #TheEastPalace #BTS_ARIRANG #BangtanPilgrimage2026 #soueltravel


Saturday, July 18, 2026

Growing Through Stories: The Greediest of Rajahs and the Whitest of Clouds

 

Friday, July 17, 2026

Bangtan Hermana Notes: What is BTS asking in NORMAL?

One thing I’ve always loved about BTS is that every era asks a question. The questions simply grew older as they did.

“No More Dream” asked why young people were expected to inherit someone else’s definition of success. “N.O” questioned an education system that left little room for individuality. “Baepsae gave voice to a generation struggling against inequalities it did not create, while “Am I Wrong” challenged a society growing numb to injustice.

As they matured, so did the conversation. “IDOL” refused to let other people define who they were. “Black Swan” confronted the fear of losing oneself as an artist. “Persona”, “Shadow”, and “Ego”explored the different selves we carry, while “Life Goes On” and “Yet to Come” quietly reminded us that even extraordinary lives are still lived one ordinary day at a time.

Running through all these songs is the same quiet insistence:

Before they are idols, they are people.

That’s why I don’t think NORMAL is a departure. I think it’s a continuity; a lineage of Bangtan’s way of thinking and making art.




The boys who once asked, “Can we make it?” have become men asking a different question, “How do you remain human after the world stops seeing you as one?”

And this is where I move away from the campaign behind NORMAL, which is, in itself, a brilliant take on journalistic conventions and the manufacturing of narratives, and I return to ARIRANG, the album title.

We now recognize Arirang as a song about ordinary people. People who loved, lost, endured, left home, and found their way back. People who do ordinary things that do not appear special, yet through the seemingly mundane and routinary, arrive at something sublime.

How beautiful that BTS chose ARIRANG. Because after becoming global superstars, they’re returning to perhaps the simplest question of all, “What does it mean to remain human?”

Before they asked us to watch the  music video of NORMAL, they quietly spent time showing us what normal looked like through their vlogs. Living. Laughing. Working. Taking a break. Pursuing a hobby. Doing the things ordinary people do.


Then came the campaign using newspaper headlines. The ordinary became spectacle. The lyrics complete the thought.

“Fantasy and fame…”

Fame is a fantasy, not for the people living it, but for the people watching it. The public version of BTS has become so much larger than the seven men themselves that even standing in a bathroom becomes news. The fantasy isn’t BTS. It’s everything we’ve projected onto them.

I don’t hear NORMAL as a complaint about fame. I hear it as a gentle defense of humanity.

BTS aren’t asking us to stop admiring them. I think they’re asking us not to confuse admiration with mythology. Their achievements are extraordinary. Their artistry is extraordinary.

But none of those things make them any less human.

Within an album called ARIRANG, NORMAL feels both like remembrance and inheritance. The dream has already come true. The stadiums are already full. The question now is no longer how to become extraordinary.

It’s how to remain recognizably, stubbornly, beautifully human.

And somehow, I think that’s one of the most Bangtan things they’ve ever said.

Apobangpo! Purple and true! 💜

Wednesday, July 15, 2026

When Seoul Surprises: What We Learn From Namjoon’s Continuing Namjooning

The ginkgo and birch trees that line the streets of Seoul has always fascinated me. I can’t think of a better word to describe the mood and the vibe. Basta, they’re romantic. Trees are romantic.

So, I plucked a couple of leaves from a ginkgo tree in front of the middle school where Min Yoongi studied and, in Hongdae, leaves from a birch tree. I carefully tucked them inside my journal as precious keepsakes but also as subjects for my cyanotype prints.

A few days ago, I took advantage of the afternoon sun in our yard and began printing. We were on a very tight budget in South Korea, so I thought of crafting something that would journey from there to here and back again. The more I read about these trees, the more I understood why they quietly stayed with me.

The ginkgo is one of East Asia’s most enduring symbols.

Having survived for millions of years, it is often called a “living fossil.” Across Korea, China, and Japan, it represents resilience, longevity, hope, and quiet endurance. Ginkgo trees stand beside temples, schools, and palaces, witnessing generations come and go. They remind us that strength is not always loud. Sometimes, it simply means remaining rooted while the seasons change around us.

The birch tells a different story.

Its pale bark has long symbolized renewal, new beginnings, and simplicity. Even after long winters, birches are among the first trees to suggest that spring is coming. There is something quietly optimistic about them.

Together, these two trees seemed to tell the story of our journey at Festa 2026. One reminds me to endure. The other reminds me to begin again. That is why I could not simply leave their leaves behind on the streets of Seoul. Instead, they came home with me.

Under the Philippine sun, they became cyanotype prints. In a few days, I will frame them as pasalubong for my ARMY friends and Kdrama Titas. These are my souvenirs made from leaves, sunlight, water, paper, and time. Perhaps that is what the best pasalubong has always been. It is not the price tag, but the thought that someone traveled through a place, remembered you, and returned carrying a story worth sharing.

As I looked at each finished print, I realized they were no longer simply  leaves from Korea. They had become conversations between Seoul and home. Between Namjoon’s way of noticing the world and my own.

For the longest time, Namjooning for the fandom meant visiting museums, bookstores, parks, and cafés because Namjoon had once been there. I think it means something much more.

It is learning to notice. To slow down enough for ordinary things to reveal themselves. To understand that beauty is not something we consume but something we learn to pay attention to.

A fallen leaf. A neighborhood tree. An afternoon walk. The warmth of the sun while making a cyanotype print. A simple gift made by hand.

Namjooning is not about collecting places. It is about allowing places to reshape the way we see ourselves and the world. As a librarian, I have always believed that stories live inside books.

But I also believe that stories live inside leaves, trees, sunlight, and the hands that choose to create. That is why Namjooning never really ends.

Allow a place to tell its story and listen with intention. Bring its story with you and let it inspire you to create something new. Apobangpo. Purple and true. 💜

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