Vancouver, Washington State, Oregon State, Hong Kong, Macau, and National Gallery Singapore.
I can't believe we are already over a month into 2016. All the photos in this post were taken in January.
Here's a short poem I wrote as I waited for these photos to upload, inspired by friends who were cramming their philosophy papers (you know who you are).
Typing: The Clicks and
Monotonous clacking of fingers
Creates a discord that lingers.
Children and adults alike
Take part in this making of music that is unlike
That of any other.
Each keystroke becomes smoother,
As our fingers run more and more swiftly across keyboards,
Making distinct chords,
And composing music
That becomes almost therapeutic.
After a while, I slowly drift into the deepest abyss
Of bliss.
"My torso is bigger than your face."
Missing the chill vibes of Vancouver.
The small yellow steamboat stumbles its way across the salty sea.
Once beautiful. Now dystopic.
Once a daily routine. Now, a long lost dream.
The last day she held my hand. The hour before she said "I love you." The minute before tears streamed down her face. I wish she knew that I didn't feel the same.
"It looks like Western civilization."
Gallons of water jumping off a cliff. Is this really what constitutes beauty?
The scent of smoked salmon lingers in the air.
Her futile attempt to eternalize love.
Balls of colour line the city.
Home for sixteen hours.
Not home yet.
Found a tree. Found a bridge. Lost my sanity.
The day I found Andy Warhol.
Imagine if we lived in the skies and the earth was an impenetrable boundary for humanity.
The way to find a way to be the way.
Humans are the missing link.
Contemplating aesthetics under a dome.
The photograph before I got scolded for attempting to open a door that looked like it should be opened.
Art museums keep me alive.
Eyes locked. Moment of silence.
Golden benches of the hour.
...the time I willingly laid down inside a prison cell.
A special moment.
Getting a little too up close and personal.
So close yet so far
Eternally trapped in a contortionist's body.
| 1 , 2 |
"Man, look at her rosy cheeks"
I'm feeling blue, da bu di da bu dai.
Caged.
Light and shadow frolicking
| infinite
In progress
Each story crammed into a bottle. Multiple generations crammed into an armoire.
"It's like a square spiral."
"Why are you in my shot, man?"
Stuck, but out of place
Each peach pear plum.
Hello world, I'm here.
Wait, where am I?
It looks like a jellyfish.
Consumption!
The future is gaining on us.
Round 2.0
Street Streaks
Nighttime strolls with the sounds of urbanity.
Constructs
Marble trespasser
Oddly satisfying.
Pancakes on pancakes on pancakes (or maybe they're waffles?!)
Stood here for ten minutes, trying to understand your lifestyle.
Sipping on vodka. Sipping on gin. Sitting down. Cannot get up.
A mass of history takes its toll on my eyes.
Macau Skyline (1/3)
Macau Skyline (2/3)
Macau Skyline (3/3)
Heavy as a brick.
P.S. Thank you for reading this post. I hope you caught onto the three themes I was working with:
- "Treasure hunting" (a sense of finding and loss)
- Weight (literally and figuratively)
- Home (a sense of belonging or safety)