With jacket in hand, I came back to where we were sitting in front of the cafe. A boy who looked around eight years old was standing at our table. He spoke in a language I was not familiar with and casually put out an empty hand. Shortly before I had left to get my jacket for Baguio’s flower festival, I met a beautiful local filmmaker who immediately let out an infectious energy during the brief time we hung out that evening.
She told me not to give him money as he stood there, since I had remembered a few pesos were sitting in my pocket. She offered him two of her seasoned breadsticks that were not touched on her plate. He hesitated, mumbled something, and still kept out his hand. The breadsticks looked good, since we were sitting at a small and swank cafe that specialized in chocolate. After he had rejected what she held out to him, he remained standing with his hand out.
She warned me not to give money to the children on the streets, especially if I already have food in hand. What do a few pesos invite? Most of the wandering children who look as young as six or seven years old get high on furniture glue. The money invites a direct mental path into a bleared mirage whilst treading/following reality’s chaos. She mentioned something which I had later jotted in my notes (in my own interpreted words), which is why be sober during a shitty and aimless life? Not every single child, of course, will squat for cheap drugs, but it is very odd to be wary of this towards children.
He stood there as she bit into her breadsticks to show him. Realizing that neither of us were going to give him money nor did he cave into what were once fresh bread, the boy left our table and into the street.
Just visiting? start from the beginning.