Ready For A Night Spread

THE SUN HAD JUST SET FOR a few minutes.

I was standing on the pebble covered shore watching this as every change of light’s intensity and color shade is amazing and magical. The ambient lighting just brings me to a subtle mood and would want to never leave its cocoon like embrace.


February, 2014.

There you go.

Me romanticizing again. But it feels good though because I know that that mood is fleeting.

The perspective behind this photo was inspired from the travel blogs I have been reading, some of them I’ve been following from WordPress and Instagram. That day I appreciated traveling and began dreaming of it up until today on reaching more places with people I love to be with is a reflection of the entirety of the travel photos I took.

I may have been stationary temporarily but the dream is still on. As my bestfriend put it, we have a bucketlist going on that is needing some checks on it.




I didn’t notice seeing the two of them getting up on those rocks. When I panned my camera back on those rocks, I was surprised to see them both sitting perfectly still there. As if no time.



I say as if no time because it felt like it to me. I don’t know if they are brothers or friends. I really wanted to get near them and join them on those rocks. The late afternoon we arrived at this place together with my cousins, we slowly walk along, minding each of our steps on this same spot to take some photos. Those rocks are slippery and jagged.


True to everyone, I suppose, that we have different views of things around us. Every angle reveals new perspective. Looking and interpreting it on any way is completely beyond us and with that timing is everything. We look, hear, smell and feel time. We favor and like time too. We put to memory the best times we ever had. We wish time for all things we want and we look forward to happening. We hope and make up for time when we feel we have fallen short of it. We create time.


Time is life. It never ceases even long before we die I think. The memory. The thoughts. The words of ours are left within those persons we survived. It is just given that time is different categorically between past, present and future but in all fairness we still share the time no matter how we want to live up or forget about it.



Eye Spy

This was a random shot while a stream of people in a procession kind of manner flooded the street each with their own “Jesus Christ”. I have taken a couple of shots before retreating inside our veranda and this moment was captured. I understand this portrays the scene of Jesus being helped by Simon of Cyrene. This “Simon of Cyrene” in my photo seemed more than happy to help “Jesus” in carrying his cross. It blew me away as I zoomed out and checked his reaction. His eyes gleaming with a crooked smile. And it wasn’t the kind of reaction I am expecting of him.

It was a Good Friday. A time to relive the passion of Jesus Christ. My hometown preserves this tradition of reenacting His last few hours before He died on the cross—from the moment He carried the cross on His back towards Mt. Calvary.

It becomes one man’s devotion to submit himself to this sacrifice when the observance of Holy Week commences. Vesting a maroon colored robe with a nylon rope tied around the hip is a sight representing himself as Jesus. He is accompanied by lanky boys garb in Roman guards costume with whips and ropes hanging by their side. Their red synthetic leather skirts and vest are adorned with insignia of their fraternity. Sometimes a sigil is also seen with that same insignia. So it appears more of a communal effort, a cooperation of a certain group to stage this reenactment much like doing a play or a street performance.

Maybe he was not oriented of his role or maybe he was just there to help “Jesus” for he cannot bear his cross anymore.


When my cousin A and I reached the summit at noontime the sun was not that harsh. Gray clouds were closely coming in as we enjoy ourselves taking our I’ve-been-here kind of shots. The air got colder but not a whiplash of wind can be felt at the top. The gray cast muted the brightness, too much hard light, of the sky as more clouds gathered together. My eyes were squinting so much I cried frustration at myself in forgetting my sunglasses.


Taking away the time from the changing weather unfolding before our eyes it was still a moment of triumph. On conquering a mountain. We were fortunate that those gray clouds just hovered on us—it never rained on our parade—while we re-energized ourselves with what’s left of our trail food, a loaf of sliced bread turned into instant club sandwich (not really!) and she bought buko (young coconut) for the two of us. Its water was just sweet and refreshing. Ah!

March 2013, Batulao



Over time when I enter an abode or public places the likes of a mall and a bookstore, I get past its doors without looking at it, much to remembering how they look like. My interest is more likely on the people and things inside. A short visit, an errand or just to breathe could sometimes drive my purpose in going to these places. Across it all, there is nothing so much interesting or fascinating about those doors I have entered or passed. To be honest, they are all flat, cold and generic in design.

Churches, old and new, sprout all over our country. I have to say they have the best kinds of doors, double or with small service openings. The intricacies of carvings and how massive, small its sizes are beautiful. A strong scent of varnish or paint lingers on its sturdy planks. So with the metal attachments: bolts, knobs and braces, all with iron tang to it when touched. Most of those churches I have visited are well-kept and maintained to its grandeur. I will have to take my photo of them next time to share it.

Villa in Caleruega

Villa in Caramoan

At home

These doors commonly share a simple design but have different finishes to it. My keen eyes notice the difference on the kind of wood they are made of. I have to say our door at home(drab in Christmas balls and poinsettia)is massive and heavy. Bearing a handmade carving is a statement as you enter opening it to our small yet cozy living room. It has not been painted since hence the raw natural color. Mama wanted it to be varnished. I want it to be painted. I don’t know what will turn out next for this main door of ours.

The modern and clean lines design of that chalet door is pleasing for me. It evokes warmth of the shelter with its dark chocolate-brown paint. There is mystery too because I wonder how cozy the chalet would be when I open it and walk through. Unlike the lodge door, I was hesitant to enter because I might open up to a dingy room. Well, missing the paint and carvings this door is battered and exposed to the elements. The salt in the air, the moisture from the sea and the short awning from the roof does not spare it from being drenched every time.

Like a book cover, I should not judge these doors by their looks. Their design, paint color, carvings and natural grain may take me aback when I decide to pass through them. Unknowingly, welcoming to an airy, relaxing and cozy room is what awaits me still at the end.