A small window plant lit up by a passing light.
A lot of things and ideas come out at night.
I don’t usually come here but the company and the conversation was worth it.
Take a lot of photos — a good number of them. Take photos of things that catches your eye. Take photos of mundane things. Catch moments even if you think it doesn’t matter for this particular time. It may have more weight in the future. Basta, take photos. Practice. You might get lucky and you’ll see an image or two that you actually like.
I caught sight of this sunrise during one of my morning walks around the Sampaloc Lake and it made me linger a bit. It seemed like the mountain was giving birth to new clouds.
This scene made it feel like there’s something new coming, that there’s something to look forward to.
The photo was taken on my Dad’s 40th day.
My father just turned 80 years old in this photo. This was last year. He doesn’t look eighty here, despite the lateness of the hour when I took the photo, at least not in my eyes.
Today, the 28th of March, he would have turned 81.
“You slowly turned and walked away. There was a hesitant pause, a noticeable sigh, and finally you disappeared among the crowd.”
People leave. Sometimes by their own choice and sometimes they leave without realizing that they have left already. Sometimes they just give up. It has happened numerous times before for one mundane reason to the extraordinary. But some people hold on even if they know they’re pulling on empty strings. They hold on maybe because they see the value of the person even if they’re not there anymore because to them it’s worth it.
I believe that behind each photo there is a valued moment, an unworded thought, even a short story. Sometimes I have stories in my head waiting for the right photo. This is one of those times.
That is what I like about taking photos — to capture a moment or series of moments so I can remember the faces and the places I have been at a point in time.
I started with a borrowed Kodak instamatic film camera when I was in grade school. I even tried developing my own film roll using an empty but minuscule storage cabinet as a dark room. Of course, naive that I am, that exercise was a failure. In high school I eventually moved on to a borrowed SLR — an Canon AE-1 Program — which I fell in love with. When I started working I used another borrowed SLR — a Pentax (I forget the model) — which I used to experiment with black & white film.
I eventually bought my own SLR film camera — a Canon EOS88. It was nothing fancy. I wanted to start recording memories of a newborn as he grows up. Years later I eventually got myself a DSLR for a birthday — an EOS 100D — the camera pictured here. The kit lens was replaced by a prime and I was quite satisfied with the results.
Without me being conscious of it, just taking photos transformed into a hobby.
The film camera is still working fine but it’s due for bit of cleaning. Instead of the kit lens it is now fitted with one of Canon’s low end prime lenses — a 50mm f1.8, It is very good glass inside a plastic body and mount. I still use it every now and then whenever I forget to be lazy or when there is an itch to use film.
Between the two cameras, I have recorded more than 25,000 slices of moments and I would probably take twice more given enough time and opportunity.
Eyes closed, I hear your voice from the kitchen. Faint but still sweet. Always melodious. I feel your whispers. I hear the trees and the stars sing with you. This world was meant to be seen with your eyes. And it has not been as beautiful without you.
People hardly look up anymore.
it was a cold morning when you left. i remember because it was raining really hard the night before. there were no goodbyes but just a gentle brush of your hand against mine. the last touch. that was ages ago. the room had become darker as the days passed but each day i still wait for you to come back. sometimes i would sit by the window and look for your face among the multitudes that pass by and i would just close the panes after the sun has set.
but now i grow tired of sitting and looking out the window. the faces have become blurs in time. the room has gone much darker and i tire.
i feel myself starting to leave.
This photo was taken in the late 90s, the words were written sometime in early August 2015, and I put them together and posted it on Instagram in the latter part of August of the same year.