19 February 2011
Ayer Keroh
Nikon D80 + AF Nikkor 50/1.8 + Available, light. Available light.
Posted on Saturday, February 19, 2011 | 0 comments
15 February 2011
Kampung Tunku
Nikon D80 + AF Nikkor 50/1.8 + Old Money
Posted on Thursday, February 17, 2011 | 0 comments
I am like my photos; sometimes colourful, sometimes in black and white yet always static.
Posted on Sunday, February 13, 2011 | 0 comments
There is a pertinent story about a man who was working on an oil platform in the North Sea. He woke up one night from a loud explosion, which suddenly set his entire oil platform on fire. In mere moments, he was surrounded by flames. Through the smoke and heat, he barely made his way out of the chaos to the platform's edge. When he looked down over the edge, all he could see were the dark, cold, foreboding Atlantic waters.
As the fire approached him, the man had mere seconds to react. He could stand on the platform, and inevitably be consumed by the burning flames. Or, he could plunge 30 meters in to the freezing waters. The man was standing upon a burning platform, and he needed to make a choice.
As the fire approached him, the man had mere seconds to react. He could stand on the platform, and inevitably be consumed by the burning flames. Or, he could plunge 30 meters in to the freezing waters. The man was standing upon a burning platform, and he needed to make a choice.
Posted on Wednesday, February 09, 2011 | 2 comments
Kata-kata yang dipermusuhkan
1. Nanti2. Aku ingatkot..
3. Biasalah
4. Aku rasa..
5. Okay kot..
Posted on Saturday, February 05, 2011 | 0 comments
5 December 2010.
Raja Chulan and Sultan Ismail.
Nikon D80 + AF Nikkor 50/1.8 + Adobe Lightroom + Facing futures.
Posted on Saturday, February 05, 2011 | 0 comments
5 December 2010.
MCOBA Dinner at Hotel Istana.
Nikon D80 + AF Nikkor 50/1.8 + Nikon Speedlight SB900 + the ladies' man.
Posted on Friday, February 04, 2011 | 0 comments
The door of the compartment was open and I could see the corridor window, where the wires-- six thin black wires-- were doing their best to slant up, to ascend skyward, despite the lightning blows dealt them by one telegraph pole after another; but just as all six, in a triumphant swoop of pathetic elation, were about to reach the top of the window, a particularly vicious blow would bring them down, as low as they had ever been, and they would have to start all over again."
Nabokov. "Speak, Memory"
Posted on Wednesday, February 02, 2011 | 0 comments
