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Recently, I’ve mostly only been using my iPhone to take photos, because it’s just easier than toting around a heavy DSLR everywhere.
Today, though, I was hit by a sudden wistfulness for it— the feel of putting an eye against an actual lens, adjusting settings and turning knobs, looking at everyday things and capturing them in a different perspective… So I walked around the house and did just that. Here’s me satisfying my itch :)

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Anonymous said: Will you ever date a 50 year old guy? (if he has a great personality and a good heart)

Kudos on the great personality and good heart, but I’d personally go by the Half-Your-Age-Plus-Seven rule.

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Anonymous asked you: hello! :) can I ask you po kung pno kyo naging fluent sa english hahah. i wanna speak fluently din po ksi. and advice po plss :/ hahah thank you in advance :)

Hi! Well, my first language was English and I lived in the US for a while, so I’m really more comfortable expressing myself in the said language. But I think I’d attribute it mostly to the fact that I read and wrote a lot since I was a kid. So that would be my advice to you— consume literary materials, even watch films and TV shows if you want; be mindful of grammar and syntax, and practice, practice, practice. Good luck! :)

Anonymous asked you: reopen you formsrping! :)

Haaahhh I’d rather not, thanks :p

Anonymous asked you: How are you related to Paolo Manalo? I saw you on his facebook friends list.

Uhh we were classmates a couple of times, I think.

Getty Museum, LA, California.
My second favorite museum in the world, right after the Louvre. 

Waking up at 5am to wait for the sunrise— priceless.

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My brother and I befriended some local kids (and their puppy), who later on took us to a secluded pond situated behind their homes. It’s apparently where they fish, and they let me ride on their boat to feed their tilapias.

Been quite a long while since I felt the sun, sand, and sea on my skin.
It’s good to be back.

Strange And Beautiful (I'll Put A Spell On You)
Aqualung // Strange And Beautiful

Rediscovered an old favorite.

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Anonymous asked you: hello, who did your tattoo?

Hi! I went to Whiplash Tattoo.

Anonymous asked you: Ate Iso, how do you feel about Game of Thrones? Are the books worth reading since they’re clearly an investment of time? Do you watch the series too? Have a good day Ate! :)

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My first tattoo!
In my teens, I came across a book that quickly became one of my all-time favorites— The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, a memoir by Jean-Dominique Bauby.He was a successful 40-something-year-old editor-in-chief of French Elle, who suffered a rare kind of stroke to the brainstem that left him paralyzed, or more specifically, with “locked-in syndrome”— mentally aware of his surroundings but physically immobilized, save for his left eyelid. With that blinking eyelid which he used to communicate and with the help of a transcriber (she would repeatedly recite a French language frequency-ordered alphabet until Bauby blinked to choose the next letter), he was able to write an incredible book, an everlasting testament to his life.
Almost 3 years ago, my dad, a once-healthy, active guy, was struck with a tumor in his brainstem. This left him unable to fully move or speak, but with his mind and spirit evidently intact— quite reminiscent of Bauby’s circumstances. So this little relevance stuck with me, and grew into something sentimental, meaningful, indelible, personal.
"…and something like a giant invisible diving bell holds my whole body prisoner (…) my diving bell becomes less oppressive, and my mind takes flight like a butterfly."
For the 9 months of his illness and the following going-on-3-years, I feel that this has already been tattooed inside me even before I got it physically yesterday. This symbolic memory of the momentous final months of my dad’s life, and the strenuous, significant moments of mine.

My first tattoo!

In my teens, I came across a book that quickly became one of my all-time favorites— The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, a memoir by Jean-Dominique Bauby.
He was a successful 40-something-year-old editor-in-chief of French Elle, who suffered a rare kind of stroke to the brainstem that left him paralyzed, or more specifically, with “locked-in syndrome”— mentally aware of his surroundings but physically immobilized, save for his left eyelid. With that blinking eyelid which he used to communicate and with the help of a transcriber (she would repeatedly recite a French language frequency-ordered alphabet until Bauby blinked to choose the next letter), he was able to write an incredible book, an everlasting testament to his life.

Almost 3 years ago, my dad, a once-healthy, active guy, was struck with a tumor in his brainstem. This left him unable to fully move or speak, but with his mind and spirit evidently intact— quite reminiscent of Bauby’s circumstances.
So this little relevance stuck with me, and grew into something sentimental, meaningful, indelible, personal.

"…and something like a giant invisible diving bell holds my whole body prisoner (…) my diving bell becomes less oppressive, and my mind takes flight like a butterfly."

For the 9 months of his illness and the following going-on-3-years, I feel that this has already been tattooed inside me even before I got it physically yesterday. This symbolic memory of the momentous final months of my dad’s life, and the strenuous, significant moments of mine.

Fondu au Noir
Coeur de Pirate // Coeur de Pirate

Memories of what I listened to in Paris.