. Sympathy for the Mutant Jessica Zafra (July 2003) When my mother died two weeks ago the general reaction was one of surprise-- surprise that I even had a mother. It is easier to think of me as a product of spontaneous generation, or of some hideous experiment that escaped from a laboratory. I did in fact gestate in a womb and not a Petri dish. My mother¹s name was Araceli. I am told I look exactly like her, although I hope the comparison is based on how she looked when she was alive and in excellent health. My mother always seemed more alive than most people. She fairly crackled with energy; her presence set up a force field that took up every available inch of space. This is why I had to move out of the house twelve years ago: there simply was not enough space. Even when I was alone in my locked bedroom at 3 a.m. and she was asleep in another part of the house, I could feel her reading over my shoulder, making suggestions. She had a gift for vivid description, and a well-developed s...
The rants and raves of a copy/comic book/writer in Manila.