Ciao, Manila

by Judy Chicago

The plane hovers in mid-air, revealing Metro Manila's abnormal-looking urban landscape. Proud skyscrapers stand as jagged mountains, masking a sea of dimly lit incandescent shanties.

Approaching the stratosphere, bright buildings, microscopic headlights and traffic lights twinkled peacefully like celestial constellations

flaunting an otherworldly sorta beauty. As the plane went up and up, I gaze through the porthole, witnessing traffic silhouettes resembling a river of fireflies slowly dissolving in thin air. Just like traffic silhouettes, urban landscapes, heavy smog and incandescent shanties all begin to fade, fade into the night.

Memories, friends, family, identity–all begin to fade, fade into the night.

Shit. Gravity's pull is acting on me. With no solid ground to anchor myself, I feel my identity slipping away. I struggle to remember who I am.

To keep my cool, I think of things I leave behind–Sox the giant ginger cat. Max the fat beagle. You and Fran and Lolita and my Mother. Sox the giant ginger cat. Max the fat beagle. You and Fran and Lolita and my Mother, my beautiful Mother.

No use. The more I force myself to fix your images in my mind, the more I feel you fading away.

Funny. For a long time, I identified myself with you and these people and the memories we shared. Now that you’re fading away, I can’t seem to clearly pinpoint who I am.

Really…Who are we? Who am I? Who do I identify myself as? A country? A nationality? My family? My friends? My skin color? My memories? My demons? A woman? A cat? A dog? A burrito?