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| Wednesday, 5-Sep-2007 13:10 |
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Azlan
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I love photography. It is like composing songs which the melody is so eclectic it could be any tunes the shooter wants. It could be jazzy and mellow at times, but the way you hear the tunes, it could be indie instead. How diverse it is, you just can imagine. How big the impact it will deliver, depends on the instruments you can hear inside the song.
But somehow, the photo alone doesn’t depict anything. It needs something to reinforce, to make the picture looks more eclectic than it supposed to be. It requires words and sentences and phrases so it doesn’t look static and dead like gazing Empire State Building frozen up in a monochromatic picture, it just there and left unspoken. What is the significance of the photo, no one could tell.
Like this picture of Azlan, he left me clueless for hours. I was just there on my chair thinking of what I should tell about this well-built young man, how should I describe him, how should I illustrate without sounding so affectionate was so hard. It was like pretending to be deliriously clever but somehow you couldn’t because your head was empty you talked crap.
We had a little moment to be reminisced. In fact, if I die or he does, one of us will not even notice the lost. We didn’t even have time to dig each other’s business but as little time we had spent together, as how sad the memories of us didn’t even coexist with my existence, I knew him well. From the surface, if not deep inside. How on earth would you know someone’s heart when you yourself can’t even tell who you really are?
It doesn’t make sense, does it?
What does make sense? He is brilliant and also one of my models in my petite tiny modeling agency. Does he make the cut to be a model, yes I would say from certain angles. From certain hair cuts and from some facial expressions. Yes I know a model should be versatile, but of course he could be versatile if we, as photographers know how to make him looks versatile. Now can I say that photographers are just like conductors with long wood stick in a giant orchestra?
This entry is dedicated to him. Happy 23rd birthday. May your life will be filled with lustrous joy and happiness, and safe from any harm that might encounter. My prayer is strolling by your side.
Regards,
Mohamad Saifol bin Aaisa
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| Sunday, 29-Jul-2007 09:25 |
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This Boy
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This picture needs no caption. Make it yourself. You'll find it better.
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| Saturday, 12-May-2007 04:14 |
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Because Those Leaves Were Falling
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"I've been thinking of making a living over here. Never wanting to go home anymore"
"What good does it make when you sip your coffee alone while your family grieves over your non-existence?"
"I am ditching away. I am super confident on my thought"
"Your abah is dying. Go home and kiss him on his cheek. Smear some sympathy"
"I don't care. This is my home now"
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| Saturday, 28-Apr-2007 12:19 |
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The Contrast
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The Contrast
Sometimes it is so funny to think that our life is separated by just one thin line. Between living - breathing the air of a fresh cut grass on the lawn, or lying on bed, eyes closed shut with nothing in the head except an eerie flashes of images how does an afterlife will look like.
Sometimes, it is not funny at all to being knocked on our head about all these things. All the life and death talks and jargons which aren't understandable at all. Sometimes we make ourselves to believe on this thing so we could be prepared for the worst and sometimes our faith is shaken badly we almost crumbled mortifying that this will not be happened, at all.
Sometimes how hard we try to ditch and to deny this feeling out of our head, it is something that is destined to be happened, something that has been written on our book of life - before we could smell the fresh air of the green grass on the back of our lawn. It will be tormenting, it will be frightening, but how hard it would be, it is written and there will be nothing can be done except being accepting.
Sometimes, when I sit on a bench on a late Saturday afternoon, I could be flown away like how do sky and solid ground could be separated by just one thin line. The green and the blank space of white dust.
Just like how do life and death are.. Two distinguish worlds by one clear visible line. It is eerie. But that's how it is meant to be. Because sometimes, life is so lovely we don't want to know what will be happening next.
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| Thursday, 12-Apr-2007 17:20 |
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Because that ray was somber
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“Sometimes I wish that I could wake up all alone early in the morning where all people still deeply drifted in their dreams just to be the only soul who could eye the magnificent gigantic sun arise from the thin line of that faraway horizon”
“Sometimes I wish that this is only a dream. I couldn’t bear the fact that I could not hold this moment any longer. This is so great. Being bathed by the breezy warm air of the sea, seeing the bluish sky with a few spot of clouds which it resembles so much like a cotton wool with lots of funny faces, listening to the serenity of the splashing waves and smiling to see those cute tiny crabs digging the hole in the sand. I wish”
“I see only you in my eyes right now. Somber and fading away”
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| Monday, 26-Mar-2007 15:08 |
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The Last Meal
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Do not ask him how he woke up on that overcast dusk, lying under the alpine tree which it's bark had peeled away he could see the trunk naked in its yellowish color. Let if suffice to say simply he was there, deep in a rock forest of the grandest building imaginable, each standing straight and tall, like the oldest trees that watched all in silent meditation.
Ed walked down the balcony. He saw the dishes he thought he would never see again. Sussex was nothing more than just a plot of fertile land with foods he puked when he stuffed inside his bloated intestine.
He wished that this never ends.
Thanks Ikan Goreng
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| Monday, 12-Mar-2007 18:56 |
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My Venti Cold Caramel Machiato
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My Venti Cold Caramel Machiato
Because hating someone you love and care is so hard that it is like refusing a cup of hot cappucino not to be ended in obesity.
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| Monday, 5-Feb-2007 08:48 |
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The Moth
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“Ibu! These moths are so cute”
“Sayang, they aren’t moths dear. They are just flowers with moth look-alike petals”
“They look so much like moths. The color is magnificent! I love the bloody red and the fact that it doesn’t have any leaves”
“Flowers and moths are two different entities. They are totally incomparable. There’s only one thing that makes them equal”
“Erm? Ibu? What is it?”
“Death”
"........."
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| Tuesday, 3-Oct-2006 09:28 |
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It's the month of celebration, yet again
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The month full with bless, comes again. And now, it is the feast for human on Earth to have a taste in celebrating the most joyful month of the year.
Happy Eid Mubarak
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| Monday, 18-Sep-2006 14:59 |
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You are detachable, for many reasons
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| Quote: | It was last year that we sat together under the dimmed light chatting about our lives, the pasts and the presents. And I wondered why we didn't talk about the future.
Ah yes... you said, the future should be planned well that it was inapt to have it discuss in open air where people were freely passed by and you afraid that they would unintentionally snooping the conversation. I thought it was funny in the first place and you were mad in no time.
It was on last year's Aidiladha morning when I heard you called your mom clarifying about the relentless relationship you've tried to thrive. But alas, to no avail. I was no one to speak so I shut myself up.
And I thought that you would be sad and gloomy for losing someone you've spent some years together but you weren't. You kept on laughing and delivering stupid jokes as if nothing had happened. You kept on smiling on that morning not to distort the joy of the celebration. And I couldn't evoke anytime when you were mad, sulky or even dumb for no specific reason. You were smiling all the way.
It was last month that I saw you once in my lifetime were mad at me. Your wrath and rage spilled that I knew you couldn't handle it anymore. I was stupid and I was a cow. I should've sought for your apology but I was so mortified that it refrained me from doing so.
And I still remember, the next morning, it were you who ignited the talk and I was frightened at that time that the fury of yours was still left even an ounce and you might be erupting once again. And I was so wrong. You made the day as normal as we had gone through, just like before.
It was last week that you were so avid about the plan on expanding the business of yours to a bigger market. I was applauding on the big move you were trying to make. It was so not you last week. You wore proper shirt at night and talked about business all the time that it almost suffocated me to death. But your plan was not properly scratched and the business crumbled on the very first day. I could see the regret on your face even though you kept on smiling and smirking with your own stupid jokes.
Your spirit is as high as the sky; your enthusiasm is as bright as the burning sun; your emotion is as strong as the shining gem; your smile is as soothing as delicate silk.
It was today that we were having our sweet chocolate ice cream that left me smeared all over the edge of my lips. It was today that we rode the motorbike together to get the needed things that we almost in commemoration as the dead little businessmen.
We've gone through a lot of things. That's for being my friend, the loyal one, indeed.
Yours truly,
Mohamad Saifol Bin Aaisa
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