With every wave of feeling that hits me straight — there are myriad of words that come too late… still better late than never — I will say: I feel lonely for no cause. And for no cause, I want to be with you alone. I want to leave, but…

Once a bride, now just a wh…concubine. — I am in the heart. I am in the middle of a boat called megapolis. My feelings changed towards the city I once called “my bride.” I wonder — what changed? Crossing the infamous streets, I used to look up in awe… it used to feel like flowers of human…

Voluntarily. — (this is a draft. but i am not going anywhere with it) I wonder if darkness is surprised when you enter it voluntarily… I suppose one wants to know why one should enter darkness on its own will? …

The whole island was swallowed by a heavy cloud. But it felt more like the cloud just dreamed of an island… and we were just an echo of someone’s imagination all along. …

The bed rotates. Feeling crackling gears underneath over-washed sheets makes photographing you so much more surreal. The bed keeps rotating to the left. Bent mirrors reflect bent images. Everything is genuine when not recognized… I am like a paper ship wiggling on waves. Nothing is straight in the creative process. And you either swing with it or you drown in it. I hold darkness inside the chamber of my camera… I let your glow enter it one drop at a time. I am an alchemist in some sense. But no stone is produced. Only images.

Like a piece of french bread left on a counter, I get stiff and dry with time, and words are not coming my way… if only a soft hand could sprinkle some water on me and warm me up — to be gentle again. I want to be gentle again… …