change

We owe a lot to change. Change makes things temporary. Change reminds us to cherish what little time we have left. Within that window, when everything is unstable, when there is only the unknown to keep us company, in that solitary moment, we somehow find within us the courage to adjust, to roll along, and find a resolution.

And since change is constant, resolutions are abundant. It is a common thing to say "embrace change", but where does embracing what is fleeting take the courageous? I don't know. But I would think, wherever that place is, it is a wonderful place where dreams do not simply come true, they are claimed.

an editorial

For most people, Spring is a geographical concept: an event that happens to someone else, somewhere else. Since I was born, I got used to life in the tropical Philippine climate, which would always be only either of two things: too hot, or too cold. Spring is alien to me; it is an imported idea that I know but never feel.

The Fukushima disaster is of the same sort: something that happened to someone else, somewhere else. And for most of the world, we only knew what the media allowed us to know. You'll only really understand the impact, the human toll, when you see it in the faces of those who lived through it. And what I saw here, a year later, is there is hope--and plenty of it.

To be a flagship of all those aspirations by offering fresh perspectives to its readers, this issue continues. As editor in chief, I hope to bridge the geographical divide through culture, and we've brought to you slices of life from both Japan and the Philippines; put a human face to both.

And with time, despite the weather, despite Earth's rumblings, we'll know each other enough to be kindred--if not in season, then in spirit.

Signing-in,

dean