four of a kind

Poetry

The woman confused the girl
with no social cues

The girl fell for the man
with an awkward bruise

The man delighted the boy
with no smart views

The boy cried for the woman
with some awful issues

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glass of comfort

Photography

Comfort comes from a glass at times when one could not find it anywhere. A cup of tea is no different from a shot of vodka, or in my case, a mug of hot tablea.

Photo Challenge: Liquid

when laughter isn’t enough

Bitter

I’m generally doing okay in the state where I’m in right now but sometimes at night I miss the feeling of tears falling down my cheeks. It’s weird but at the end of some days I find myself longing for the me from months ago, anxious and crying effortlessly because of a lot of things, or the lack of some. Is it just me or does pain really grow into you that you’d go looking for it at times when your life seems boring?

Daily Prompt’s Laughter.

P.S. I wrote this October of 2017, I don’t know what got into me. Anw, it would be nice to hear your thoughts about it!

the coolest summer

thestrangehertravels

Three provinces, six islands, seven days. Summer of 2017 was the best I’ve had so far. From rock formations and waterfalls in Northern Samar to long sandbars and breathtaking views in Leyte. Sambawan Island made our jaw drop with its natural beauty and Kalanggaman Island is a paradise on its own. As if those weren’t enough, I traveled farther down to Cuatro Islas, where the stunning islands of Apid, Digyo, and Mahaba make up for the simplicity of life. Since I still have time, I explored the city of Baybay and even slept at the beautiful campus of Visayas State University. I missed what could have been the best sunset when I left for Tacloban right after chilling at Lintaon Peak. It didn’t end there though, as my wild spirit decided to walk along San Juanico Bridge alone. I still consider it the scariest 25 mins of my life to be honest. And this summer getaway the coolest.

This post is part of #thestrangehertravels photo essay project.

lips and roaches

Poetry, Strange

Your lips
are the rim of an aqua coffee mug
crawled on by roaches
I would never dare let mine touch again.

Yet your voice
is the sound of an expensive violin
stroked by a fine bow
I loathe how it could still disrupt my ground.

first roll of film

Photography

On July of 2017, I bought a Canonet 1961 to fulfill my desire of trying on a new hobby: film photography. My excitement doubled after putting in a fresh roll of Fuji Superia Xtra 400 on the site where I planned to take my first shot: UP Diliman.

I remember it clearly, my first shot—it was of a man running along the pavement of UP Lagoon, just before he passed by the lamppost #18. It was rather ambitious for a beginner like me to capture that moment, and the film probably felt that as a couple of frames were cut after it got crumpled in the spool of the camera, which was equivalent to all the pictures from UP. Ate Gina, the woman who saved my first roll, said it could still be used, and so I did.

Days and weeks of abandoning the camera and sort of giving up on it have passed before I picked it up again for a day tour in another UP campus: Los Baños. I used up a number of frames and saved some for my nearing solo travel getaway and everything was going according to plan. That was of course until I realized I was taking too many shots, way more than the available exposures of the film roll.

I had the camera checked by some hobbyist friends at work and my luck stated that the shutter was stuck. Not only did my mind explode from the probability that all moments weren’t captured, but my heart also sunk with the thought of film rejecting me. Or maybe it was just the camera.

The year ended and I was starting to lose care on film but January is my month and it turned everything around. A friend gave me an advanced birthday present and guess what it was: a Cosina CT-1 Super. Since my Fuji roll can still work despite its fortune, I loaded it and started shooting, on the day of my birthday no less. I was hoping for the best, as always, but my foolishness got in the way when I forcibly rewound the film a month after using it all up. Ate Gina came to my rescue once more and saved the remaining film that can still be processed.

Of the 23 frames that survived, these are the only decent ones I’m proud enough to share.

I had a love-hate relationship with film over the course of eight months, but the excitement I felt when I got my shots back couldn’t be explained, and in my dictionary that kind of excitement fills my soul up. Now, I therefore say, that shooting film is one of the things that will keep me alive.

Machiavellian eyes

Poetry

Slow songs

and shuttle rides

A sleepy girl

with round eyes

Heavy traffic

and long sighs

A cold heart

with invisible lies

Clear skies

but confused mind

Countless whys

yet turning blind

The sleepy girl

with invisible lies

Keeps haunting me

with Machiavellian eyes