Collage

I needed to make a collage for the screening of THE ORG. That done, I showed it to some people, who, friends though they were, could not seem to believe that it. was. my. work. What is up with that? Though I never stood out as the artiste, I have enough gumption to appreciate (and, I hope, create) art. Should I show it here? Later on, maybe. If someone really wants to see it. As with many things, the scanned version looks quite better than the original. I don't know why that is. Well, I just thought I'd provide you kids with a collage of a different kind, one you would style by yourselves. I saw all the following this morning:

1) The squatters' area by the rails completely demolished, a desolate sea of concrete, old wood, and scrap metal, with some men and children milling about.
2) Men carting off wood and metal to be sold to junkyards.
3) Children being walked to school by fussy grandmothers and harrassed mothers.
4) An old man selling candies, the veins in his thin legs standing out against the skin.

And this is what I heard:

1) The rail people were leaving because they could no longer make a living. They'd sold heaps of scrap to the junkyards before their evictions,thus making the junkyard owners short of cash; unsurprisingly, the Chinese junkyard owner was the only one who didn't get any of the scrap. Slow business. Eh kesyo daw barat.
2) A Japanese fighter plane and another airplane collided, due to the lack of radar on the fighter plane.

Well, can you picture that? A little slice of the Philippines for anyone who wants it. We only live, after all, in these little moments of clarity, these little slivers of consciousness.