Her footsteps were muffled by the mathematics of it all.

Borobodur, Central Java

 

Home is where the smell of sawdust and calluses is.

Furniture Factory, Las Pinas, 2016

My soul belongs to everything that will never belong to me.

Singapore, 2016

  

Glass Wind, White Hound

Langgeng Art Foundation, Yogyakarta, Indonesia, 2016

Pueblo De Los Secretos

Paete, Laguna, 2016

The elusiveness of the town's spirit is as sharp as its carver children's chisels. It is unwelcoming and unsettlingly quiet like the oldest man you'd ever meet who wouldn't talk about his youth, nor his seemingly unpresent disease. 

It wants you out of its borders; Its authority chokes you. Still, you couldn't help but bow down in awe and utter respect as it tells you, "You don't belong here, and never will..."