Street Photography II

One of the reasons why I love walking is because I got the chance to capture art in the most ignored places. 

The familiar places and faces that seem to be random and meaningless becomes a form of art.

Every random coincidences and routine chances becomes a story.

Every granite, every edifice.

Every stranger and familiar faces.

Every smell of that same yellow flowers every month of March.

Every breeze of December zephyr.

Every wet pavement of June.

Every sunsets and sometimes sunrise.

Every summer auburn leaves.

All becomes a story.

Beautiful.

Art.

Defying Odds

The Vault

Alignment

Haze

Gatepass

Circa '01

I have to say it now, it's been a good life all in all, it's really fine to have a chance to hang around...

And talk of poems and prayers and promises and things that we believe in. How sweet it is to love someone, how right it is to care.

How long it's been since yesterday, what about tomorrow and what about our dreams and all the memories we share?

Highschool pic

Broken But Smiling

Strength isn't about how much you can handle before you break. It's about how much you can endure after you've been broken. 

- Robert Tew

Photography is the art of capturing a moment to be preserved for a hope of eternity.

And this is actually one of my personal favorites. 

I shoot this photo years ago and the story was... 

I actually found the broken Mickey mug on the desk just like that...

Broken but smiling.

Yes...

Broken... But still smiling.

"The only thing worse than choosing wrong is not choosing at all" - O. Mann

The bEst and wOrst Day of June

I lived, and I learned

Had you, got burned

Held out, and held on

God knows, too long

And wasted time, lost tears

Swore that I'd get out of here

But no amount of freedom gets you clean.

 - TS

Angel's Conspiracy

Did angels conspired

For you to witness the fall

But why didn't you wished?

It was a star all along.

Was it the scars or your pride

That made you blind in all

You failed to see that you missed

And the fall was on me all along.

Auburn

Give me the matches

Let me reignite the spark

That started the very first fire.

Rekindle the Auburn summer

That was lost from the autumn's winter

On that Tuesday night of June.

Let me be lost in amber sunsets

Drown in teal oceans

Of purple-pink skies.

On the summer of '92.

Street Photography

One of the reasons why I love walking is because I got the chance to capture art in the most ignored places. 

The familiar places and faces that seem to be random and meaningless becomes a form of art.

Every random coincidences and routine chances becomes a story.

Every granite, every edifice.

Every stranger and familiar faces.

Every smell of that same yellow flowers every month of March.

Every breeze of December zephyr.

Every wet pavement of June.

Every sunsets and sometimes sunrise.

Every summer auburn leaves.

All becomes a story.

Beautiful.

Art.

Graffiti

Keep Me Posted

Rusty Pick-up Truck

Stay

Tired

To the Haze of the City and Go South

March

A Childish Grin and a Camera

The Godfather

Norwegian Wood

My Feet Roamed

Privilege

Defying Time

Drops of Jupiter

59

October's Fall

Autumn's Playlist

I know I'm not the center of the universe

But you keep spinning round me just the same.

Lovelock

Lives on Different Sides

Stigmatized

Stories Has 3 Sides

Calje Sto. Tomas

Thor

Finding Fofo

I met Fofo during the darkest days of my life. People always thought that I shine. I was always bright. Little did they know that I am just using an artificial light to  add a spark in my dark life. But you see, Fofo saw the darkness in me and the light I have to create for myself. Fofo accepted both the darkness and light in me. Only Fofo saw that. Sometimes I wonder if he sees through me or did I just showed him the real me. But what gave me the reason to do that? I never let anyone inside my soul. I am good at creating walls. I'm too good actually. So that made me question if it's magic or did I just had a moment of weakness when I drew all my guards down.

So Fofo and I were almost inseparable. Maybe it is just my illusion, or maybe it was real cause it felt real then. And I don't want to go to oblivion yet. Not yet.

Fofo became my Orion. He was the story I've always prayed and dreamed of. He was the story that I wanted to write. In fact, he was the story that I wanted to happen to me.

But with the love of the love that was more than love, I didn't know what happened.

My story became someone else's story. 

I cried to all the gods. I got mad and angry. I felt betrayed by fate. I got deceived by my destiny. And with all the right things I've done, I question all the gods and angels what am I guilty of that I deserve such betrayal. I wasn't blameless but I wasn't a demon either to be cast down to freezing hell.

The gods stole my story.

The angels conspired with them.

So I never had the chance of the happy ending.

Fofo went his away across the moon rivers while I was left on the shore like the Huckleberry's friend.

Finding Fofo and losing him began the series of hauntings in my life.

I was looking for Fofo in everyone and everywhere. Like the face I can't imagine in the faceless crowd. 

Sometimes, loneliness is starting to creep inside me and I am starting to fear it.

Fofo became the standard. 

The Mcfarland. 

The reference.

Soon every granite and every stone reminds me of him. Every song sings about him. Every conversation became all too petty for I only speak my language with him.

I see Fofo every once in awhile in my dreams picking periwinkles of violet hues telling me that if it turns red he'll love me again.

But all periwinkles remained violet and some whites.

I miss Fofo.

For the longest time, I carry the story of Fofo inside my heart. I wanted to release it. Maybe then I'll be free. 

But if I'll be honest enough, I know Fofo will always have the reserved seat in my heart. He has gotten my soul, how could I be released? How could I be free?

If soulmates are true enough, then Fofo will be mine. I knew from the moment I laid my eyes on him. 

I love Fofo.

And I will always love Fofo.

And I don't want to look for any other.

For I already found my Fofo.

Till then I'll wait for my Fofo.

Footnotes:

Fofo is a fictional character but is actually based on real events. Fofo represents the soulmate we always knew we had but never had the chance to have... Just yet. For so many reasons, like time, circumstances, and all the changes life has to offer. But just like me, we don't give up on our Fofos. We simply can't. Because Fofo is the reason why we still believe. Fofo is the faith without the clause to believe in.

M. L. Quezon

You have everything to give.

And all I could offer is

What is left of me.

You created the story 

Of the waiting boy

And I wrote it.

About so many chances that came.

And I chose to shrugged it.

Until a thought of it.

Was it supposed to be a gift?

So many times you give.

But I turned it down.

Turned it down again.

Hesitations because I am hesitant.

Hesitant because I wasn't brave.

I wasn't brave to trust.

Until one day while walking after work.

On a crowded streets we used to tread.

On that old gasoline station 

The old chance came again.

As what I always do.

I shrugged it off again.

Until after a block 

I turn around running as fast as I can.

I ran wishing the chance was still there.

I ran feeling like I am losing you again.

I ran just to know you are no longer there.

Chances, chances, chances,

Came and went.

Until the last never did happen.

Do you know how it's like

To finally have the courage

But it is already late.

Do you know how it's like

To finally have the guts

But your guts came too late.

I want to say it...

Even if it is too late.

I wanted you to hear it...

Even if it is already too late.

I want you to say it on my face...

Even if it is too late.

I wanted to hear it...

Even if it is already too late.

Why can't we say it?

When it's too late.

We both want to hear it.

Maybe it is never too late.

Footnotes:

Manuel L. Quezon was the first president of the Philippines and the face of the twenty peso bill that reminded me of stories about chances and how I shrugged them off until I finally got the guts but my guts came too late. Hence, the title.

Never settle on what is available

But always go for what you really want.

Remember...

You don't drink poison just because you're thirsty.

When everything has changed but not the way Savage Garden's Darren Hayes sings.. ♥️

Hang Ups

Still have Hang ups with the Netflix's Series "The One"...

So I figured  out... why not another post.

What if “the one” isn’t supposed to be the person who takes your breath away?

…but rather, it’s the person who helps you breathe easier when times get rough.

What if “the one” isn’t supposed to be the person you stay up all night thinking about?

…but rather, it’s the person who helps you to sleep easier knowing that they are in your life.

What if “the one” isn’t supposed to be the person who completes you?

…but rather, it’s the person who makes you feel whole and able to be who you are when you’re by yourself.

What if “the one” isn’t supposed to be the person who sweeps you off your feet?

…but rather, it’s the person who helps you to stay grounded, focused and determined to do the things you set out to do.

What if “the one” isn’t supposed to be the person who totally understands you and knows everything about you?

…but rather, it’s the person who sees things that you don’t and spends the time to try to get to know more of you.

What if “the one” isn’t supposed to be the one who brings out the best in you?

…but rather, it’s the person who helps you to discover the things about yourself that you need to change.

What if “the one” isn’t the person who gives you butterflies, or makes you feel all tingly on the inside?

…but rather, it’s the person who gives you comfort when you need it and makes you feel safe on the outside.

What if “the one” isn’t the person you’ve been waiting for all your life?

…but rather, it’s the person that’s been waiting for YOU all your life.

I won't trade my coffee

For your tea and sympathy.

I Played my hearts lament like an unrehearsed symphony

Rusty Pick-up Truck

You can always pick me up wherever you left me.

Even after a thousand years.

I have this habit of repeating the same (one) song over and over on my playlist that could go on for days and sometimes weeks and months... And never really gets tired of hearing the same song every day.

For most, it is weird.

For me, its... Loyalty 🤪

Our Story

I never wanted to collect memories and then lose the story.

There is a reason why our fate is designed to be unknown. A reason why our destiny are not revealed from the start. The reason why we can't figure out exactly the one whom we are matched.

...because it will lose the sense of magic.

Imagine if there's really that technology that could match our DNAs with our "The One", with our destiny. Then we will no longer look for others because we finally found our match. And we're sure of it. Our DNAs say so.

But what would become of our love stories?

They will all be the same.

The same stories that we found our match because our DNAs said so.

We cannot tell stories anymore because we don't own one.

We create lots of memories with our "The One" but loses the magic of falling in love. Of loving even though you're not sure if he loves you back, but you still punch the moon, jump on the edge, because you are sure that you're in love. We can no longer be brave to love because there'll be no more bets and leaps of faith.

It loses all the magic and the senses of love.

Love is fearless, it is brave, because even in the midst of not knowing and uncertainty, we choose to love and get hurt. Isn't that brave?

Love is faith, that even if you miss all the chances, you still go back to where that single chance came, hoping it will come again. Isn't that faithful?

Love is a story, different from everyone. We get our own fairy tales, we get our own forevers. We get that magic only us could ever known. A story only us could ever tell because it belongs to us. Isn't that magic?

And if one day we lose all our memories. Our story gets told. To others are just words, but to us it is a poetry.

So I never wanted to collect memories just to lose our story.