Posts tagged photo

Lover of the Light
Hey! I'm Scott! I love taking photos. Photography has been and will always be a part of my life. Since a kid, I would play with disposable cameras, and taking candid photos of my family.
I left photography while I was growing up but my love for the craft returned around late high school because of the influence from my friends. By then I would shoot with any camera available at hand; p&s, phone, ipod, and now the hard-earned, sought-after, and very own dslr. Finally! haha
I really enjoy Street / Reportage / Documentary photography a lot! In contrast, I also like Portraiture. From there, my love of taking portraits stems to Fashion, Lifestyle, and Editorial styles. Apart from these, I enjoy the other genres, but nothing compares to the feeling when I'm shooting those mentioned above.
I am open to collaborations, conceptual, portfolio, advertising & commercial work. If you are interested in working with me drop me a message or email.

Read more >

Photography is the capture of the very present moment. It is meaningless to regret in the future what you’ve missed. Therefore taking a photo of the present is to preserve it. That is the essence of photography. Your feeling is always a reflection of the photo you produce.

The past cannot be captured by the present. And the future also cannot be captured by the present. The present can only be captured in the moment.

— Daido Moriyama

On our backs we’ll lie, our eyes set on the skies. We’ll watch how these clouds transform into various shapes and forms our mind wants to perceive.
What’s behind those silver lining? Reverie. There is more beyond this view, a scenery with a reflection of me through you. A never-ending story of a boy meets girl.
In your eyes I see myself drifting off. A blink of an eye and alone I lie staring at nothingness. Spacing out.
Daydreaming.
She was just a daydream at all.

(img via jandp)

I woke up realizing she was not beside me. I scanned the room in search of her. I ran down stairs rushed to the kitchen hoping she was there preparing our breakfast.
I hurried to the shore to found out she was just there, staring blankly into the crashing waves of cerulean-colored sea.
I gazed at her wondering whether the argument last night still lingers in her mind. I asked, but she gave no response and headed back to our house.
I remained from where I am standing eyeing on her as she walked with her head down and the wind blowing her hair. I hope we’ll be okay.

(img via nikolinelr)

Holding your hand in so many ways was one of a few lovely memories I can remember instantly. It didn’t matter to me whether our hands got sweaty and all, I’d just stick a handkerchief in the middle.
It didn’t matter to us whether a person is blocking or walking towards our way, we’d just raise both our hands in a playful manner and let them pass underneath it.
It didn’t matter to you whether I’m playing with your hands; holding them in any kind of way, you’d just hold them back the way you want to hold it. Pinky-promise hold.

(img via jandp)

Saturday morning. The taste of beer and vodka that we drowned ourselves last night still lingers in my mouth. With eyes closed, I turned myself over to the right side of our bed. My eyes took a glimpse of her as they lazily open their lids.
Her brown highlights that ran down through her hair shined as if a pair of spotlights were focused down to her. She squinted to see what made her woke up.
I sensed that she also had that aftertaste of liquor from the way she smiled. I moved closer and kissed her. Not minding any of that alcohol taste, she kissed back. Holding her nape, I brushed my fingers that are still with remains of a cigarette smell through her lustrous morning hair.
Her sweet passionate kiss was all I ever needed that morning. And her that I will always hold on to.
I would not like it to happen if one day I’ll turn myself over towards her side and all I’ll ever see is a pillow and a blank space.

(img via savedbygrace)

A 1945 Magallanes Street, Cebu City (photo courtesy from circa 1945.)
(img via FB)

a 1945 Cebu Capitol: [click]

I was cleaning the attic one afternoon. It was all dusty, cobweb-filled and old. What was left of my teenage memories were all piled up in gloom.
As I moved along, I stumbled on a box; it was familiar and thought that if I would open it I’ll remember what it was for.
It was full of pictures with the girl I used to love. I brought myself to a pause just staring to that only photo of what was a joy to look at.
I was thinking of her smile. The smile that what I thought would never change. Her heart, the feelings that I thought would never fade.
I was pondering, what would it be like if her smile and her heart were still the same?
I dawdled and pondered a little more.




(img via bigohbigpride)

Cebu Capitol, circa 1945. Hawan pa jud kaayo ang uptown Cebu niadto. Mura pa’g kahumayan. (Picture courtesy of Karaang Sugbo)

a 1945 Magallanes Street: [click]

Yes. shopping is what’s all inside in her head. No, I’m not starting an argument here. I only mind a bit though, since she really looked good in the dresses that she bought.
By the way, she always have this photographic moment with these tri-fold standing mirrors in every boutique.
I will just wait for her to finish putting on clothes that she finds adorable and at the same time glamorous.
"No honey, that doesn’t look good on you." I said.
She asked why.
"That dress is a bit exaggerated if you are going to ask me." I added.
"How about this one?" she said smilingly trying to convince me.
"No. Still not. Wait, how about that over there. Try that on, you will look gorgeous in that one babe." I told her. Trying not to make her upset

We went out the shop without buying something.
She decided not to brought me along the next time.

(photo via odium)

*this is only fiction, I’m trying out something new*

want!!!!!
and can it be Canon please? >:]

(fuckyeahphotographics:conceitedbastard:alfarsi:mezzaluna:ache)