Joseph Scalice

This book begins and ends in the vast city of Greater Manila; my conscious life began here as well

This book begins and ends in the vast city of Greater Manila; my conscious life began here as well.

The hand-painted billboard skyline of Cubao, the treasure hunt Quiapo bookshops, a stagnant estero in the semana santa sun and a precarious coco lumber walkway over eskinita silt, the waterfront at sunset, the giggling slap at a wandering hand on Luneta's grassy shoulder, tumbang preso and patintero, rice field pilapil receding in Cainta, the hoarse morning cries of hasa and taho, water buffalo carts still plying down Kamuning—these are the inscape of home. My childhood was filled out by this extraordinary metropolis and its haphazard sense of history. More than anything else it was love of Manila that impelled my scholarship.