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I remember why I love photography. Not because I can capture the moment. But because I can relate.

Telling a story through pictures and photos reflects my entirety. Because some things, emotions can never be articulated into words, phrases or sentences. An object or a person with its its surrounding works together to bring about that thought I want to express. A lot more simpler than typing out or forming those words in my head. I get lost for words more than you can imagine. I am never a good story teller to begin with. I can't tell a good story or my own story for that matter. The only thing I can talk with you is when you are down and you need help. Those are the only words that come to me naturally.

Pictures are versatile. And you get to re-interpret, mis-interpret or not interpret the meaning and significance of a photo however you want. I don't care. You see the world in your light as I see my world in my own light. Ambiguity. Yes, that is the word I like to describe myself.

Still moments and everyday objects each invoke a different nostalgia/emotion/memory in each individual. And perhaps that is why I just love looking at so many pictures.

Perhaps I should start taking stacks of pictures with me. So whenever some stranger come sitting at my coffee table, I'll just start flashing them like placards as part of a conversation. I wonder if they might think I'm mute/psycho/weird?

Pet

Not so tall
Slightly squinty
Vain
Fancy mirrors
High maintenance
Sugar junkie
Loves his lenses more than me
Speaks car lingo
Has annoyingly long lashes
Lies but don't admit it
Can be mistaken as a girl over the phone
Ultimate copy-me-cat
Mastered the skills of creeping up silently on someone
Bully

But I am a step above you in all the above! How else can I handle you?
*grins*


So yeah,
Happy Birthday Andrew Mak




Monash JB Clinical School (2009)


Asia Cafe (2009)


Delicious by Ms Read (2009)


Planet Hollywood (2008)


Putri Indah (2009)


Putri Indah (2009)


Genting Highlands (2008)


I want, but I don't want
I don't need but I need
It's okay, but it's not
I don't care but it matters
I love it but I hate it
I'm alright but I'm not

So what am I?

P.S The cupid has been hazardous!

monologues are fun. and dangerous. and hazardous. yupps


Sun is sprightly like the morning light in spring.
I'm tripping over bumps and cracks on the wooden floor of the patio.
Lil' white flowers in the emerald green bushes
I'm smelling them with a tiny button nose I never knew I had

His big hands came ruffling my tousled hair
Yellow marigolds, he always called it
Locks curling in and out his fingers
Little fingers touching his deep wrinkles
Getting caught in the furrows of his frowns

And he sang butterfly kisses
Twirling me in my smocked frills
The whole world seemed dizzy dizzy
When the last bit of sun escaped
The world was swallowed whole
And I woke touching my pierced nose and covered by my black hair.

Pfft.

bang bang. you're dead.

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