Category Archives: Photography

Photography

The Lady from Shanghai

. “There’s only one sun,” he says. She nods her head, not catching his meaning nor caring much either. It is enough that she is kind and patient. These sorts give up after a while and move on, further down the bar where it may be easier to land a catch, and sure enough, they

A Deconstruction of Daisies

. Eighteen. I was eighteen and my first published story ever stared back at me from the pages of the paper. Actual newsprint where nothing but an idea existed only weeks before. These words were mine, and they were in the paper, for all to see. I was public, truly for the first time, my

Two Weddings and a Proposal? (Part 1)

“Sakura Bride” by Jonathan Lee 1: “Here comes the bride…” Place: Sri Paandi Banana Leaf Rice Restaurant, Section 11, Petaling Jaya Date/Time: Wednesday, 7 May 2008, 7:30pm Objective: Mini-reunion dinner of former Siemens interns/colleagues and the giving-out of wedding invitations. I was there early, of course. After all, when you’ve had some sort of German

Pretty Good Year

Now is the time for reflections, they say. An entire year’s worth, it seems, is now open to investigation and incisive analysis. Twelve months of folly and foibles, work and worries, play and penance, all coming under the penetrating glare of a single eye, a kind one, I pray. Let’s sit down first, and get

Then & Now

What is it with memories? They carry us through good times and not so good times. Are they just thoughts or do they mean something more? There are days I feel trapped by my memories; the past — it’s not as forgiving as we would like it to be. Is it the painful bits that

Just The Way Things Are

1. Busy, busy, busy. Still alive. I joke to my friends that I have my work life and my social life and nothing in between. No time alone, not when there’s always one more client to talk to, one more party to go to. Not that I’m complainin’ — I could be out of work

Home Sweet Home

What makes a home? Too long I’ve flittered from place to place, country to country, without leaving a mark of my own. My childhood sanctuary still persists in my old hometown of Malacca, but my bedroom has been stripped bare by years of me moving round elsewhere. Nothing remains the same, they say. Sometimes it