"The manila envelope is ubiquitous in modern record keeping ... it also embodies a history of global trade, war, and colonialism." ~ from Off the Record, Guggenheim Exhibit, April 2 - September 27, 2021 Why do eye and ear seem to hearken more kindly to words finished in a different tongue? Seductive ends: vanille instead of vanilla; Manille instead of Manila— this name given to paper recycled from rope, its fibers culled from banana plants. Deep turmeric yellow, bales of hemp harvested from abacá crops in that colonial outpost in the far east. So much use for the ships and banners of war, for new sources of commerce! And envelopes in which to slip bills of lading, terms of consignment or lease; contracts that renewed even after flags were pulled out and folded. Flaps seal shut with two metal teeth biting down, or a cardboard button fixed with a narrow length of cotton twine. Once, we walked through the walled city and its tourist-washed cobblestones, certain that every merchant in every shop had reams of these in drawers and filing cabinets. From the ramparts, a view of the bay and the setting sun, coronet still desired by every kingdom. In a restaurant named after the enlightened ones, we stopped for ice cream with sampaguita essence. A spoonful turned our mouths into high- vaulted cathedrals, where incense smoke wafted, ghost-like, in the triforium.
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