The air in tea country is chilled to perfection.
But while my lungs bloomed open in the bracing atmosphere of Malaysia’s Cameron Highlands, my camera did not appreciate the damp. It wouldn’t recognise my lenses and these pictures, from our visit to the BOH Sungei Palas Plantation, are the only DSLR captures I have from our stay in the highlands.
If you’re a Lightroom user, click on the link to download the develop preset I created to process these photographs;Â sb-camerongreen.
Sunrises to wake up for. Sunsets to linger over. Chill and Eat.
Send a postcard to your old life; I Am Never Leaving This Place.
Mostly frequented by vistors on day-tour packages, the Damnoen Saduak Floating Market is blighted by a proliferation of tourist tack and dust-catchers.
Despite it not being the authentic experience one hankers for as a traveller (and really, what can remain authentic when every single sightseer wants off the beaten path?), there still are beautiful moments floating along the canals.
A scene that stays with me is the one where a Buddhist monk paddles through the market, collecting food alms from the stall-owners. He stops at a stall where a woman and her little boy kneel with folded palms while the monk makes a blessing. It is a tender instance of pure faith suspending the banal bargaining for magnets and elephant-shaped keyrings.
There were so many other pictures to be made but I forgot to pack a spare battery for my camera. I shot the following images with my phone.
Walk along an artery like Sukhumvit Road; the Skytrain omnipresent above your head, the buildings striking up and down like piano hammers. Ignore the city’s supra-urban excesses, its love for sale, its hovering haze. Look for its ghost houses, the intricacies of its worship, the sensitivity of its wai, its beguilingly balanced cuisine. And it will not be the city imposing its will upon you, but you soaking up its humid vitality until even your hair coils into springs.
The capital of memorials, monuments and museums.
MOMA, Harlem, Christmas lights, the village, SoHo, Â Grand Cental Station, Happy New Year.
Collectors Treasury
C.T.P. House, 244 Commissioner street, Johannesburg, Gauteng
Mon – Fri: 09:00 – 17:00
Sat: 10:00 – 13:00
I was literately floored, my appetite for tsundoku, ravenous.
Volumes of volumes; first editions, rarities, autographed flyleaves, cursive inscriptions, gifted books – given away, just stacked there, urging the bibliophile to succumb.
Watershed moments, reptiles with toothy smiles.
Bienvenido a Miami, Art deco skies
They put a man on the moon.
The Mickey Mouse Operation. Your childhood parades in front of you. If it looks too real, check for plastic.
Along the mighty Em-eye-double-ess-eye-double-ess-eye-double-pee-eye, chicory voodoo, balls and beignet, true blues, mardi gras bead rosaries.
Zen, bridges, pay your dues, art hustle.
Chill, breathe deeper, take pictures for proof.
From Monterey to Morro Bay. I aint never seen no blue like this before.
Characters, dream chancers, sunset hopes.
Naval gazing, sleepy mammals, parks and recreation.
