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✨️ Our ancestors before the Spaniards arrived wore gold and passed them down through the generations, regardless of social class. They even crafted bowls, liquid vessels, and the hilts and covers of daggers and swords out of gold.

They buried these ornaments with the dead so that they could use it in the afterlife and as a token to give the spirit or deity to leave purgatory. They also covered the faces of the dead with gold death masks to protect them from evil spirits entering the body.

Numerous Spanish accounts record that they wore gold and buried their dead with gold bahandi, or heirlooms. From Antonio Pigafetta, Francisco Alcina, Pedro Chirino, Friar Bobadilla and within the Boxer Codex Manuscript. Together with historical accounts, archeological finds of gold artifacts from Luzon, the Bisayas, and Mindanao show how much our pre-colonial ancestors wore and used gold in their clothing, divine figures, and everyday wear, similar to the rest of Southeast Asia.

To see many of these artifacts, check out the gold exhibit in the National Museum of the Philippines and Ayala Museum.

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Filipino Isekai

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Pandangguhan Song

Manunugtog ay nangagpasimula At nangagsayawan ang mga mutya Sa mga padyak parang magigiba Kung bawat tapakan ng mga bakya Kung pagmamasdan ay nakatutuwa Ang hinhin nila'y hindi nawawala Tunay na hinahangaan ng madla Ang sayaw nitong ating inang bansa

Dahil sa ikaw mutyang paraluman Walang kasing-ganda sa dagat silangan Mahal na hiyas ang puso mo hirang Ang pag-ibig mo'y kay hirap kamtan Kung hindi taos ay mabibigo sa mga pagsuyong iaalay Kung hindi taos ay mabibigo sa mga pagsuyong iaalay

Halina aking mahal Ligaya ko ay ikaw Kapag 'di ka natatanaw Ang buhay ko ay anong panglaw

Halina aking mahal Ligaya ko ay ikaw Kapag 'di ka natatanaw Ang buhay ko ay anong panglaw

Kung may pista sa aming bayan Ang lahat ay nagdiriwang May lechon bawat tahanan May gayak pati simbahan Paglabas ni Santa Mariang mahal Kami ay taos na nagdarasal Prusisyon dito ay nagdaraan Kung kaya't ang iba'y nag-aabang May tumutugtog at may sumasayaw Mayrong sa galak ay napapasigaw Ang pista sa bayan namin ay ganyan Ang saya tila walang katapusan

Manunugtog ay nangagpasimula At nangagsayawan ang mga mutya Sa mga padyak parang magigiba Kung bawat tapakan ng mga bakya Kung pagmamasdan ay nakatutuwa Ang hinhin nila'y hindi nawawala Tunay na hinahangaan ng madla Ang sayaw nitong ating Inang bansa

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maybe it’s time you go home

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An antique doll I saw on eBay, she lives in a woven egg

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"You really don't believe the prayers [from last Saturday] helped you?" He said in a kind voice.

Caught red-handed lacking faith, she laughed nervously at his comment. "Maybe?"

But deep inside her she thought:

Prayers? I cannot remember the last time I prayed. Each day of my life I feels like a survival; always on edge, always one trauma away from losing my sanity. I have been devoted to Him since birth, yet he keep on pushing my life to the mud. I try to get up and walk over and over, crawl when I had to, and yet I am still slumped with the rained dirt. If he really exists and cares for me, then you are the only miracle I know. That albeit my faith has been led stray, that I think I do not deserve a love as pure given the stains I have all over my entity, he has given me a living angel in the existence of you.

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I love bisque dolls and their little double chins 💕

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A girl with her doll by Albert Durier, Paris, 1900.

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...

“Because, either you must say it— or you must whip me,” she taunted.

Her eyes were upon him and the shameful fear that had unmanned him in the dark chapel possessed him again. His legs had turned to water; it was a monstrous agony to remain standing.

But she was waiting for him speak, forcing him to speak.

“No, I cannot whip you!” he confessed miserably.

“Then say it! Say it!” she cried, pounding her clenched her fists together. “Why suffer and suffer? And in the end you would only submit.”

But he still struggled stubbornly, “Is it not enough that you have me helpless? Is it not enough that I feel what you want me to feel?”

But she shook her head furiously. “Until you have said it to me, there can be no peace between us.”

He was exhausted at last: he sank heavily to his knees, breathing hard and streaming with sweat, his fine body curiously diminished now in its ravaged apparel.

“I adore you, Lupe,” he said tonelessly.

She strained forward avidly. “What? What did you say?” she screamed.

And he, in his dead voice: “That I adore you. That I adore you. That I worship you. That the air you breath and the ground you tread is holy to me. That I am your dog. Your slave…”

But it was still not enough. Her fists were still clenched, and she cried: “Then come, crawl on the floor, and kiss my feet!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he sprawled down flat and, working his arms and legs, gaspingly clawed his way across the floor, like a great agonized lizard, the woman steadily backing away as he approached, her eyes watching him avidly, her nostrils dilating, till behind her loomed the open window, the huge glittering moon, the rapid flashes of lightning. She stopped, panting, and leaned against the sill. He lay exhausted at her feet, his face flat on the floor.

She raised her skirts and contemptuously thrust out a naked foot. He lifted his dripping face and touched his bruised lips to her toes; lifted his hands and grasped the white foot and kissed it savagely— kissed the step, the sole, the frail ankle— while she bit her lips and clutched in pain at the windowsill, her body distended and wracked by horrible shivers, her head flung back and her loose hair streaming out the window— streaming fluid and black in the white night where the huge moon glowed like a sun and the dry air flamed into lightning and the pure heat burned with the immense intense fever of noon.

-The Summer Solstice, Nick Joaquin

!! This story will be perpetually embroidered in my brain. This soft erotica of a fictional Filipino fiesta.

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Dollectable, Chester, 2024. © Moon and Serpent

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like or rb if you use/save