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Gibbon By: Unknown photographer From: WWF Threatened Animals 1986

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the passion according to g.h - clarice lispector

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chestnut munia (red mayas, black-headed munia

blogs about "maya" birds that shattered my childhood perspective .. I have been misclassifying this species ever since birth. Whilst the name "Maya" refers to a variety of small passerine birds such as sparrow, finches and munias .. the "real" (Philippine national bird pre-1995 Philippine Eagle reign) Maya bird is the "Chestnite Munia" (Black-headed Munia).

http://philippinemaya.weebly.com/

https://philippinebirdblog.wordpress.com/2016/02/13/ang-maya-chestnut-munia-black-headed-munia/

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song: interlude

from "The Voice of Bataan" by the Filipino author "Carlos Bulosan" published in 1943 during the Second World War.

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flowers i picked yesterday during my walk

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meme kakak made of me

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barbary lions

The almost extinct lion subspecies called "Barbary lions" (Panthera Leo Leo) also known as the "Atlas lion" (reminds me of Aslan from the film 'Narnia') so beautiful and unique due to their morphology and tendency to live in solitude. They are locally extinct but were once native to North Africa .. mountainous with almost only 100 (apparently) left in cared captivity. Though only a handful left, these captive zoos and sanctuaries participate in a global collaborative breeding program to ensure the species' future survival.

The last record of a wild Barbary Lion was shot in Morocco in 1942.

Last year, a zoo in Belfast opened up a new enclosure that is now home to Qays, Fidda and Theibba.

Reading up on this got me so emotional ... like they're sooo chill.

RESOURCES:

https://www.belfastcity.gov.uk/zoo/our-animals/mammals/barbary-lion

https://blogs.kent.ac.uk/barbarylion/

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three clovers

today I picked three clovers I spotted beside the sidewalk on my way home from my walk. They’re currently drying in the "Barefoot Doctor" book. I wonder if they feel at home .. or close to home binded within pages about medicinal herbs and plants…..

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sweet sundays

I remember being a child once and dreading Sundays as they were the days when I would have to return to my mother's side's home. I always felt devastated when the sun would set on a Sunday evening. I don't know. Maybe returning to that home .. a home that felt new .. affirmed my parent's absence .. something I did not want to acknowledge nor accept. Maybe I should have been more grateful but I was a child. Probably 8 or 9. I was familiar with the Sunday anxiety at age 9. I knew of nothing but the agony and despair of a Sunday. But now .. as I am much older I have grown to live for my Sundays.

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Neta Gordon on literary analysis

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