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there are certain things that i just do not share. take, for instance, how raya went: it wasn't good. suppose i needed to turn to someone, but everyone seemed so out of reach.

"when you get home, immediately run and shake you abah's hands and ask for forgiveness. your happiness depends on it."

and there she was, you know. we hung out over coffee and cigarettes and dr m's pastries, talked about everything under the sun: family, film, art, faith, work, reconciliation, love. she made everyone around her (waiters, salesmen, random passersby, me) feel so comfortable and at ease that i totally respect her for it. and it's rare enough that i find someone who can map out my thoughts and read through me. hardly ever in fact.

she even made me reconsider my career options, an idea i've been toying around with but never had the courage to pursue. cause you know, i don't know how i'll handle it. a lot of self doubt lately.

while i still don't think my photographs are worthy of her praise, or even anyone's, i am going to take that chance.

i've been analysing my photographs. and they lack something. but perhaps, lacking that something is the most special thing about them. it's as if no matter what i took they will almost always turn out intensely sad.

regardless of how things turn out, i feel blessed. i think.