As the first episode of the Philippines Graphic Literary Workshop (PGLW) slowly came to its conclusion on February 28, we knew that we had one more thing that we can offer our bright young fellows: a starting platform for their creative endeavors. Here, we present one of their final outputs from the workshop. We also asked them to provide an artwork that they think best represents their stories. Read on.
Filling my nose was a mixture of salt from the ocean and the slightly acrid smell of whatever decaying waste it had brought upon the shore. The same one I’m trying to trudge along with uneven steps— my one heeled toe sinking into the sand, the other foot bare.
The yellow heel that clads my right foot reminds me of the pair my mother wore in an old photo. Written on the back, in her handwriting, were the words: Olongapo, 1983. The closed-toe shoe Mama wore—a contrast to the open expanse of her skin clad in a bikini. She was surrounded by women dressed similarly, and by American men who held them in their arms. One of them was my father, whom I successfully tracked down last year.
Adam Alexander, who now lives in Ohio.
“I can’t support you. I have a wife and children that I actually know are mine,” he replied in the email I sent him.
I have no idea whose shoe it was that I took—only that it looked pretty, that it looked like it would fetch quite a price, and that I would have more use for it than the dog who was about to mistake it for lunch.
It’s been an hour since I started looking for the other shoe, but all I keep seeing is the beige, grainy expanse of the shore.
For the past decade, Zoe S. Advincula has been obsessed with reading stories of grand adventures and overanalyzing characters she finds compelling. Today, she puts that experience to use by creating worlds and characters of her own. A second-year BSIT student, her university’s Honors Society P.R.O., and one of her university’s newspaper’s feature writers, she loves being part of a community that inspires her work..
