On November

As 2025 is coming to an end, so many things have happened since I last wrote in July. After joining a photo-zine workshop, I decided to close the year by applying for a one-year photography mentorship. It feels a little wild, considering my photography skills are… well, pretty much the same as always—if not a little worse.

But during the last Panna workshop with Roni as the speaker, he said something that stuck with me: you should either do it, or not do it at all. It made me realize how, for so many years, I’ve been sabotaging myself with all sorts of excuses not to take the next step. Now I finally have a reason why I need to do it—right now—or not at all. I truly hope this photography journey goes smoothly, and that I’ll meet people who can help me grow and develop even further.

some photos from Ephemere 1st Tokyo Photobook Club

November passed by incredibly fast. I met a few friends every weekend, tried out a new camera—it felt like ages since I last held a “real” camera! Recently, I also got to know some friends from Ephemere Photo and joined one of their gatherings. It was such a fun session, talking about photography, our favorite photobooks, creative hacks, and even how to navigate life in Tokyo. I had a great time, even though the next day I came down with Influenza A—probably from exhaustion and the cold weather creeping inhope this December brings good health and smooth days ahead.

Still Here, Still Trying.

Today, Facebook reminded me of a post from a student’s commencement speech back in 2014.

It came a few years after a heartbreak caused by family circumstances, which also led me to withdraw from an international workshop I was supposed to attend in Cambodia. The post went like this:

“Find something to be obsessed with, and then obsess over it. Don't compete; find what's uniquely yours. Do your pictures—don’t try and do somebody else’s pictures. Don’t get lost inside your head, and don’t worry what camera you’re using.”

I reposted it at the time as a reminder that even though I didn’t get to go or learn there, I could still learn from anywhere. But it seems that heartbreak lingered longer than I thought. I ended up moving back to the capital, working a 9-to-5 job, and gradually, that obsession started to fade—buried under daily routines and the weight of unresolved grief.

So, where am I now? Well… pretty much still here. My days are filled with mundane tasks working to fund my life and my art. But even now, that art still carries the hashtag #on_going_project. It’s been 11 years.

Sometimes, I feel like taking photos just isn't the same anymore. The spark I used to feel when capturing a moment—it’s gone. I feel like I’ve lost my mojo. The way I see the world has shifted, too. I used to notice all the tiny details around me; now, my awareness is focused on my child—and all the little dangers that might come her way.

I'm wondering…Will that passion, that fire, that energy I once poured into my photography ever come back? I'm trying. And I’m hoping that desire and drive will find their way back to me.