Category: Weekly Photo Challenge

Weekly Photo Challenge: Comfort

Comfort means family.


Family and Travel.

The Guinto Grandchildren: Sabine, Basti and Mateo in HK Disneyland

Comfort also comes from taking photos.

Willing subjects and color.

Beautiful people.

Happy Feet.

And sharing all that through instagram, my favorite app in the world.

IG, the ultimate comforter during hard days at work.

Thank you.

I heart instagram

Photos taken with my iPad2 and Nikon D90.


grateful slice:  Finding comfort in the everyday and everything

Weekly Photo Challenge: Sunset

How to enjoy a sunset...

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I Send Two Sunsets

by Emily Dickinson

I send Two Sunsets —

Day and I — in competition ran —
I finished Two — and several Stars —
While He — was making One —
His own was ampler — but as I
Was saying to a friend —
Mine — is the more convenient
To Carry in the Hand —

Photos taken by a Nikon D90 (Boracay 2011) and a Canon Ixus (Boracay 2009).

grateful slice:  enjoying sunsets

Weekly Photo Challenge: Fall

We don’t get fall over here but maybe this will do.  Thanks for the suggestion, Purita Jones.   Look at what welcomed us on a Friday afternoon after a challenging week and dramatic day.

Rainbow Brightness

Photo taken by iPad2 @ The Beacon School parking lot.

grateful slice:  rainbows on a Friday afternoon

Weekly Photo Challenge: Faces

A day at the museum and then some …

Hero with a Thousand Faces




Different Faces of Sabel



Good things come in threes

Pinoy Music Video

from The New Yorker



MARCH 26, 2007

This is your museum of stones, assembled in matchbox and tin,
collected from roadside, culvert, and viaduct,
battlefield, threshing floor, basilica, abattoir,
stones loosened by tanks in the streets
of a city whose earliest map was drawn in ink on linen,
schoolyard stones in the hand of a corpse,
pebble from Apollinaire’s oui,
stone of the mind within us
carried from one silence to another,
stone of cromlech and cairn, schist and shale, hornblende,
agate, marble, millstones, and ruins of choirs and shipyards,
chalk, marl, and mudstone from temples and tombs,
stone from the silvery grass near the scaffold,
stone from the tunnel lined with bones,
lava of the city’s entombment,
chipped from lighthouse, cell wall, scriptorium,
paving stones from the hands of those who rose against the army,
stones where the bells had fallen, where the bridges were blown,
those that had flown through windows and weighted petitions,
feldspar, rose quartz, slate, blueschist, gneiss, and chert,
fragments of an abbey at dusk, sandstone toe
of a Buddha mortared at Bamiyan,
stone from the hill of three crosses and a crypt,
from a chimney where storks cried like human children,
stones newly fallen from stars, a stillness of stones, a heart,
altar and boundary stone, marker and vessel, first cast, lode, and hail,
bridge stones and others to pave and shut up with,
stone apple, stone basil, beech, berry, stone brake,
stone bramble, stone fern, lichen, liverwort, pippin, and root,
concretion of the body, as blind as cold as deaf,
all earth a quarry, all life a labor, stone-faced, stone-drunk
with hope that this assemblage, taken together, would become
a shrine or holy place, an ossuary, immovable and sacred,
like the stone that marked the path of the sun as it entered the human dawn.
Read more

All photos taken with a Nikon D90: Baguio (bencab museum), Bugsy’s and Kinneri’s living room. 2011

grateful slice: good days and great memories

Weekly Photo Challenge: Textured

Y's crushed bumper and his genius

celebrating my friend’s success today (his stuff will be auctioned at Christie’s soon) by featuring his latest work (Bravo, Y!)


well, here’s more …

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nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals 
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture 
compels me with the colour of its countries, 
rendering death and forever with each breathing 

(i do not know what it is about you that closes 
and opens;only something in me understands 
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) 
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands 

-excerpt of #35 from “100 Selected Poems” 
— E.E. Cummings

grateful slice: art, poetry, experiments and practice

Weekly Photo Challenge: Path

The Road Not Taken    

by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

An oldie but goodie, Dumaguete, Dec. 2010

Ayala Triangle, Jan 2011

The Peak, HongKong, July 2011

Sagada, Walking from the Pottery Shed, Feb 2010

Walk this Way, Sagada, Feb 2010

Path to Haji Ali, South Mumbai, June 2011

The Promenade, Mumbai, June 2011

grateful slice:  the road ahead

Weekly Photo Challenge: Up

It always get better.

Keep your Sunnyside Up

High Up in the umpteenth floor, I see you

Looking up never looked this blue

Alone Up There

Surprise at the Gateway Mall, HK. Don't forget to look up

Feel like an ant

“Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.”
— W.H. Auden

grateful slice: Looking up (and not tripping over stuff)

Weekly Photo Challenge: Flowers (RIP Tuvera and Tiempo)

Today, I dedicate these flowery snaps to a Philippine National Artist for Literature, Maam Edith Tiempo and  Kerima Polotan Tuvera, a journalist, editor, novelist and short story writer.  Here’s to women who rock and write.  May you rest in peace.

Seeds of Love

Hanging by a thread

Packed and good to go

Line the path

Purple Guard

Sunshine Vibration

Pink Lonesome

Bloomin' Yellow

Orange you glad am beside red?

White Out


All that I love
I fold over once
And once again
And keep in a box
Or a slit in a hollow post
Or in my shoe.

All that I love?
Why, yes, but for the moment —
And for all time, both.
Something that folds and keeps easy,
Son’s note or Dad’s one gaudy tie,
A roto picture of a young queen,
A blue Indian shawl, even
A money bill.

It’s utter sublimation
A feat, this heart’s control
Moment to moment
To scale all love down
To a cupped hand’s size,

Till seashells are broken pieces
From God’s own bright teeth.
And life and love are real
Things you can run and
Breathless hand over
To the merest child.

– Edith L. Tiempo

grateful slice:  women writers and philippine literature in English

Weekly Photo Challenge: Entrance (revised)

Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what was seen during a moment.

-Carl Sandburg


Philippine Normal University, Board Exam days

Main Hall entrance, KIS

Sacha @ the Met, NYC

Soho, NYC

St. Joseph's Entrance, Sagada

Enter here, Kodaikanal, Tamil Nadu

The Gateway of India, the ultimate entrance, South Mumbai

The Taj, South Mumbai

Antonio's, Tagaytay

GSP: Entrance to Chinese Resto with Basti, HongKong

Man, these photos bring back such awesome memories. Thanks, G. For making it all possible. 🙂

Photos taken with a Nikon D90 and Canon Ixus:  India, HongKong, Sagada, Manila, New York City.

grateful slice:  open doors and the guessing that comes with the territory

Weekly Photo Challenge: Mountains

Whoever said beach people couldn’t fall in love with the mountains is a fool because that’s not true at all. Sure, feeling the wet and warm powdery sand between my toes under an unspeakably azure sky brings peace and contentment next to none but that does not diminish the awe I’ve experienced amidst grand glaciers, cool craters and the secret-filled fields of the Mountain Province; something I’ve learned to crave year in and year out. These peak moments are made so much more when shared with people we love. I miss you to bits, sis. And to all the batches we have been accompanying to Sagada since 2006, here’s to you. Thank you for giving me a reason to go back there over and over again.

Thanks G, for meeting me in either place all the time with no fail. Your overpowering presence has more than once knocked me down on my knees. Thank you for teaching me how to live big.

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THE MOUNTAIN by Emily Dickinson

The mountain sat upon the plain
In his eternal chair,
His observation omnifold,
His inquest everywhere.

The seasons prayed around his knees,
Like children round a sire:
Grandfather of the days is he,
Of dawn the ancestor.

Photos taken by a Canon Ixus and a Nikon D90 in various places – Mt. Pinatubo, Alaska, Sagada.

grateful slice: G, my sister, Alaska, Pinatubo and Sagada — the field trip that’s become a tradition.