The sea (part 2)

Here’s a continuation of the seas I saw, in more southern latitudes…

If you needed persuasion that the sea is another world, the Sea of Japan is dotted with torii gates that are believed to be entrances to the spirit world.

Facing the politically tumultuous South China Sea is this tranquil temple, what a juxtaposition!

Yeah I was mad enough to wear jeans and hiking shoes to go island-hopping around the beautiful lightness of the Andaman Sea.

By contrast, the sea around Marina Bay Sands was so dark, it looked like an ink wash painting.

The jewelled Tasman Sea

Last but not least, this is my hometown’s sea. Taken during the recent supermoon, it is the freshest photo in this series.

I am always grateful that I grew up near the sea. As a child, I wondered where the big ships were going to and dreamt of seeing those faraway places for myself. And when I reached those faraway places, I would sit with my old friend, the selfsame sea. Unlike land, water is connected. We give the seas and the oceans many names but really, there is only one ocean in this world.

The sea (part 1)

My apologies for not posting here for a while. It was not that I had nothing to say; I had too much to say. It is always the same: as words approach infinity, light dies. You must forgive me for avoiding this black hole.

Or maybe it was just the weather, you know? It would not stop raining. I waited in vain for the sky to light up, for the day was asleep before it even woke up. Before long, my emotions became a reflection of the weather.

The sea is a mirror of the weather too. What colour is the sea? Blue? Not always. On overcast days, it is a listless grey. During sundown, it burns red like warm blood. When the sun and soil work in tandem, algae bloom green in the sea.

So here are some seas I saw, from north to south:

Grey and vast, the North sea was once the playground of the fearless Vikings. Now timid sheeps graze in the surrounding cliffs.

Lost in the Irish sea

My favourite place on earth—Cape Cornwall! I hike up the cape as much as I can, and I have been blessed to see it in many colours: gold, green, grey, purple, pink and of course, deepest blue. This was taken on a warm winter day, when the sun illuminated the blue-green Celtic sea and the fair wind led the waves from the wilder parts of the Atlantic ocean.

Just one day after the previous photo was taken, the sun disappeared. In its place was the brewing storm. I could barely stand up against the forceful winds, and I could barely contain my excitement as the blackest clouds edged nearer and immersed everything in rain.

In contrast, the Mediterranean sea was so calm. Perhaps it was due to the chalky sediments of the cliff I sat on, that the sea took on a peculiar hue and texture. What does it matter? As I gazed and gazed and gazed, as sea and soul fade to light…

The Aegean sea bears witness to an age-old story. She was there when eruptions birthed this island. She was there when the ruins I stood on was a stronghold. She was there when the town was painted white in defiance. And she will be there when dust returns to dust.

Last autumn in Japan

What is your favourite season?

I have always loved autumn the most. As a child, I loved its colours—they are the closest approximation to my favourite colours (black and red). As I grew older, I recognise the season as one of harvest, maturity and sunsets. It is a bittersweet time: as things reach their peak, their shadows become longer, stretching towards an impending end.

The Japanese have a phrase, mono no aware, that relates to the transient nature of things and how such impermanence affects the way we feel about them. Consider a flower in bloom, its beauty is a joy to behold. Consider this flower again, with the knowledge that it will soon fade like all flowers do, do you feel the same about it?

This series of photographs were taken last autumn in Japan. I hope I captured the sweet sadness of the season, the place and the sense of an ending.

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Like a swansong, the dying leaves burnt as red as the last light of day.

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Every meeting ends with parting, which is such sweet sorrow (to quote the Bard).

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At the ramen shop, I finished the last drop of the delicious broth and the message 「この一滴が最高の喜びです」 (“this drop’s the greatest joy”) was revealed at the bottom of the bowl—they know!

In life, there are days so glorious that the heart knows that they would never come to pass again. On such rare days, I would cling to every moment on the journey home. With each passing second, my heart would quietly swell with an unspeakable longing until it becomes too much to bear.