“A bunch of rubbish” was my initial thought when I saw it on my daily walk to school. It was in my periphery, an eyesore against the pristine pinkish-white walls as its background, nestled under the shade of a young but bent kalachuchi tree in its unassuming yet interestingly cluttered glory. You walk a few steps ahead and you’ll see the board exam passers of our university, perfectly lined up with minimal design, painting an obvious disparity. With my cheap phone, held together by wrist bands and wishes, I would take a series of photos of a makeshift altar of sorts by the roadside of our school campus between June and September 2025. I was always compelled to take photos, as it was ephemeral, ever-changing, and seemingly included everything.
Offerings to No One in Particular
Nonfiction by Quisha Marie Latiban | February 9, 2026