11:11

Momentarily, I had a glimpse into an alternate future. It looked foreign (expectedly), with a different face, and I felt I had to like to what I saw. Having all five senses intact is not enough to make sense of the world.

Damaged goods shouldn't be sold again, even if it was to people with lower expectations.

Act of Time and Space

You come with nothing, you leave with nothing.

Consider this statement. What then does the time in between this duration of entry and departure matter for? So that you may change the outcome of your departure, the same one that everyone shares. So that you may manipulate the spaces that you come into contact with while your body still has life. I would like to believe that we are much more than detoriating biological machines, and that coincidences are all part of a greater plan.

It has been some time since, I keep thinking that the game play would have changed.  These are trying times, more so than before. I concur, I repeat, achieve, fall flat. Resolution is not at hand, the long engagement marches on like a rock sinking through the pool. Existence continues, at the debt expense of my future.

Shine A Light

... unto and magnify the familiar. Promising and bold words that have reached my ears lately. I have found a new but familiar chapter to pursue, but what this begets remains to be seen. Diving into dark water, a little calamity makes life worth talking about.

After bagging a D90, I met Xin for a visit to the Singapore International Photographic Festival party at Old School last Saturday. Ten months on, I think we are all trying to be bigger than ourselves somehow.

The other project is coming along. I can't say much now.

Reskue Plen

Turning and turning in the widening gyre, the falcon cannot hear the falconer. Things fall apart, the center cannot hold. Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere, the ceremony of innocence is drowned. The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity. Surely some revelation is at hand. Surely the second coming is at hand. The second coming. Hardly are those words out when a vast image out of spiritus mundi troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert, a shape with lion body and the head of a man, a gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, is moving its slow thighs, while all about it reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again. But now I know that twenty centures of stony sleep were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle. And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

As Is

One shining column after another, is a masterpiece. But truth, it is not.