Of princesses and real life

I'm at a coffee shop, listening to Christmas music while I grade my students' papers. The holiday sounds, the busy atmosphere of people coming in and out, the energizing smell of roasted coffee and the endless pile of work to do, for some strange reason, remind me of my undergraduate days. I remember spending countless hours in my school's library, studying, daydreaming, hiding from the masses, because, believe it or not, being surrounded by books makes me feel safe.

I grew up with my nose stuck in books. I loved to read. And I still do. But what I read now might be slightly different from what I used to read back in the day.

I loved fairy tales, just like any little girl would. I was fascinated with stories about foreign and beautiful places, where princes traveled across the seas to find their princesses. Or the stories where good always triumphs over evil. Where the poor suffers and one day teaches the rich a lesson. Yes, I also liked those kinds of stories. And I still do, perhaps because I think of my life itself as a fairy tale, as a work of art in the making. A story that will have a happy ending.

"Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale." ~Hans Christian Andersen

 

 



 

 

Home is where the heart is

On Sunday, it will be my first year anniversary living in a new city. A year ago, I could not even picture in my head the kind of trouble I was getting myself into. I feel like I have grown more in one year than I have in all my life. I have seen the ugly side of people, of things, of life. My naive, carefree self is gone, and I have had to learn many things the hard way. But even after all these harsh experiences that have tried to strip away my essence, a little spark in me remains, a flame that screams who I am to the world, a voice that has never pronounced my name more clear and more loudly. I am who I am thanks to all those tears, smiles, broken-hearted dreams, and sleepless nights. I am not afraid to be my unique self anymore, because everything I do has my personal signature in it. I am me, and I have never been happier to be me.

If you never say your name out loud to anyone, they can never ever call you by it.

 ~Regina Spektor

Late afternoon light

art:  [mass noun] the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power.

Sometimes I wonder whether what I do in my every day life is art or not. I say it depends on how you look at things. Being an extremely sensitive person, I pour a lot of my emotions into what I do. So in a way, what I do on a daily basis does have some sort of emotional power. It has a part of me.

My photography is important for me because it represents who I am and how I see the world. It has my essence and my name written all over it. And it captures an instant that is forever gone, yet I can relive it whenever I want. And preserving that part of life that is already gone is like knowing that that moment will always be with you, no matter what.

Art is everywhere. Even ordinary life can be artistic. It depends on how we decide to make it.

On comebacks (and tomatoes)

Hello, friends! After a long and unexcused absence, I am finally back. Grad school has definitely been keeping me busy, but I took the opportunity to snap some pictures in this gorgeous natural light setting. Tomatoes are in season and what a perfect subject for this mini photoshoot.

 My blog also has a new look, which I love, and I think it represents how I've changed through the years and this new facet that I've acquired in my photography journey. Enjoy!

 

 

 

Fall is here!

As I happily welcome autumn, I would also like to welcome you to my blog.






Thanks for visiting!