OLD HEART

Old heart,
are your eyes still clear enough
to see the beauty
beyond those wrinkled lines?

Old heart,
your limbs have weaken,
your bones can be easily broken,
but do you still dream of running after her?

Old heart,
how do you mourn for lost love?
Does it bring you tears at night
knowing that there wouldn’t be anyone
next to you when morning comes?

Do you still reach out in the darkness,
hoping that there would be a hand
to meet your touch?

Does it fill you with longing
for companionship that is
no longer there,
when you look across the table?

Old heart,
how painful it is for you
to wait for the time,
when your two old hearts
will be united once again.
— September 2014

When I see old people eating alone, there’s a tiny ache in my heart that I couldn’t place and this is my feeble attempt of expressing it. Along with more underexposed photos from my second film roll. Bikes with baskets fascinate me (it’s in my bucket list to own one); along with the carousel it reminds me of childhood memories. Youth and age blends here.

FROM LONG AGO

film diaries

I love you
in a sincere way,
that makes me love you
despite the scars
and flaws.
— May 01, 2013

Amidst the darkness of the world,
there is a flicker of light,
right there in your heart.
Do not let it die,
but make it ablaze like fire.
— August 18, 2013

What if the day you only have is today?
Would you do things differently?
Maybe you’ll climb a little higher,
walk a little bit slower.
Love more, and breathe.
Breathe deeper.
Take every second in.
— September 15, 2013

Underexposed photos from my second film roll, and some spilled thoughts that I found in my writing notebook. I dare not call it poetry, what I have written is still a far cry from it. These words have been hidden for so long, to the point of expired emotions that came with it before; time to bring it out to the light.

NOTHING PLACES

film diaries

“Nothing Places” in which one could be assured of complete privacy, we agreed that we never would look at the marked-off zones, that they would be non-existent territories in the apartment in which one could temporarily cease to exist…it seemed necessary, because there are times when one needs to disappear…and sometimes one simply wants to disappear.” — Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

When my words fail me, I borrow from others and hope that they won’t mind. Today I owe my words from Jonathan Safran Foer (all the words above are his). I’m currently reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, and there’s a narrative which tells the story of a man who lost his words, slowly, one by one, until he can’t speak no more. I’ve been wanting to write, but right now I am like that man. I wonder if it’s because life is passing by too fast again that my hands can’t catch up in writing down the words, or maybe I’m not yet ready to let the paper bleed. So for now, I leave you with film photographs arranged into a digital collage.