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My 1st Film SLR Camera










After tons of contemplating and decision making i have finally chosen to get a film camera rather than a digital one. For reasons that are withheld, i decided to start from the basics and learn from scratch on photography. Everyone loves beautiful pictures, everyone loves to be able to take beautiful pictures, well even more people would love to look beautiful in pictures. Beauty and creating beauty is not enough. To me beauty's sure a big bore, i actually do love whatever that you hate. Wrinkles, pigmented skin and bodily imperfections are what i would love to capture, these and so much more.

To capture an image is an attempt to eternalise the moment. I want to eternalise the beauty of every little small thing that is irrelevant and minute. Every moment is precious, every moment of life itself is to be cherished, we do not know what will become of us when our time has come, we do not know the true purpose of the lifes we strive so hard to live for. If life itself has to end so tragically where all the past deeds of a hero leads to only reminising and nostalgic recollections, at least when i'm old and weary i can be able to look back at the histories of my past. Though i know that the pictures that i take will just be burnt together with my dead body leaving charred marks that bears no pain nor sorrow to my heart-the heart that has stopped its beat.


Let me live in the moment i want to eternalise a little longer, though nothing lasts forever.

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this is not intentional, for me to close off my blog to everything, everyone. then reopen it exactly 2 mths after i turn 200.

its just a refreshing form of relief. a blog's intimate, but not physical, lateral for me. Its just ideas and thoughts flowing ever so fluidly.

nothing has changed, so nobody's missing out on anything ;)

ah, pictures i have of many celebrations and occurances that concurrently and occur in a sequential series of events just occur, i am sincerely happy for them.





A deep mourning to the disastors that occured to myanmar and china. The sorrow penetrates my bones and goes deep rooted into my heart, rendering me speechless to the sheer sense of loss and the little glimmer of hope. How can we just continue to live life when something so devastating occurs to others cast in the likeness of ourselves, others that share the similar bodily functions and feelings? This is not a declaration, nor is it a revelation of my musings, it is a true question that is in my mind.

If there is a god, dear god please help us, help them.
The courage to live on when you are left all alone, the smattering of dreams and hope. The idea of fragility of life. Life threads on such a fine line. A thin thin line that breaks even at the slightest touch. Just like a string of web cast by a spider. How humans stay positive in order to stay sane. Religion itself is a positive idea, a form of thinking that is healthier and more dependable.


I'm starting to be optimistic again, i guess its the way of living.

If i could mourn for the countless deceased victims in silence, i would not mind sacrificing my ability to speak just for them. Let me be mute for as long as there is penance and relief to recover the loss that does not seem to be ever retrievable.

dudes check out this You tube post.

Are Americans Stupid? You'll have to see for yourselves. Thank the education that we've got, cos i could answer most of the questions. How about u?

They faked the placement of names of the countries in the map. Take a closer look. And them Americans fell for it. Its funny but poses major questions at the same time! Here's for u to think!

p.s how many sides does a Triangle have? Four?!
Dang!.
U preschool or something!?
sweet.

I look towards my reflection
But i do not see me.
Trees and roads flash by
like a mirage exacting its play.
I pass by a deck/field of tombstones
residing directly next to the living.
The dead and the living coinciding
Harmoniously.
A chair is empty
I take my seat
& shut off the scene/display i gave myself upon.


Blue skies foggy and a mixture of mist.

BLEAK BLEAK HOUSE


why
you torture us so


fat fat book
i could choke on u now


read the easy font
built into microscopic volumes


laugh at the displeasure
just like a baby
drinking condensed milk.

Home is the normal - whatever place you happen to start

from, and can return to without having to answer questions.

It's a metaphor that may seem to fit reduced expectations.

We no longer seek towers that would reach the heavens;

we've abandoned attempts to prove that we live in a chain of

being whose every link bears witness to the glory of God.

We merely seek assurance that we find ourselves

in a place where we know our way about.




SUSAN NEIMAN,

EVIL IN MODERN THOUGHT

ESTRAGON:
The best thing would be to kill me, like the other.
VLADIMIR:
What other? (Pause.) What other?
ESTRAGON:
Like billions of others.
VLADIMIR:
(sententious). To every man his little cross. (He sighs.) Till he dies. (Afterthought.)
And is forgotten.
ESTRAGON:
In the meantime let us try and converse calmly, since we are incapable of keeping
silent.
VLADIMIR:
You're right, we're inexhaustible.
ESTRAGON:
It's so we won't think.
VLADIMIR:
We have that excuse.
ESTRAGON:
It's so we won't hear.
VLADIMIR:
We have our reasons.
ESTRAGON:
All the dead voices.
VLADIMIR:
They make a noise like wings.
ESTRAGON:
Like leaves.
VLADIMIR:
Like sand.
ESTRAGON:
Like leaves.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
They all speak at once.
ESTRAGON:
Each one to itself.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
Rather they whisper.
ESTRAGON:
They rustle.
VLADIMIR:
They murmur.
ESTRAGON:
They rustle.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
What do they say?
ESTRAGON:
They talk about their lives.
VLADIMIR:
To have lived is not enough for them.
ESTRAGON:
They have to talk about it.
VLADIMIR:
To be dead is not enough for them.
ESTRAGON:
It is not sufficient.
Silence.