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
lovely writing, as usual. miss ya, dean! :)
ReplyDeleteComing from you, that is a wonderful compliment ^_^ I miss you, too, Gibbs; your unexpected questions borne through the most earnest eyes I have ever had the pleasure of being the subject of. I hear you're doing quite well, and, of course, I am quite glad. Looking forward to seeing you soon! And here's hoping your current happiness hasn't spoiled you one bit!
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