Tuason unlocked the door of her tiny apartment. A herd of elephants greeted her from a tanguile table by the entrance. Some of the elephants were finds from ukay-ukay shops, some were gifts from what few friends she had. The others she carved herself. After a dinner of reheated pakbet and day-old rice, she sat on her workbench. And with Bon Jovi’s husky voice singing “Shot through the heart…” in the background, she resumed work on her latest elephant. It was going to be an African male, one with floppy ears. It was more showy and more difficult to carve than the Asian elephants with smaller ears. She chose a carving knife from her toolbox and with careful strokes, carved the teak wood, steadying the knife between thumb and forefinger. She imagined what Quezon City must have been like when
