The photograph presents a gathering arranged around a single focal point: an elderly man seated at the centre of a table, eyes closed, lips gently pursed, breath gathered. In front of him sits a cake—decorated, upright, expectant. The moment is poised between action and completion. Something is about to happen, but has not yet happened. The image arrests that threshold.
This photograph holds a quiet gravity. It is not celebratory in the obvious sense; there are no candles, no posed smiles, no visible markers of festivity. And yet, it is deeply about a birthday—because it is about **continuity**, about life extending itself across generations, about time folding gently rather than announcing itself loudly.
The Phantom We Create, The Phantom We Become
Zhutianyun, when you stand beside the masked figure in this photograph, the image assumes the gravity of an encounter between two different epochs of storytelling—your face etched by lived years, framed by the soft greys of experience, and his obscured by the chilling grin of a painted skull. It is an encounter between presence and apparition, reality and simulation, the philosopher and the phantom. The more one looks, the more the image reveals itself as a meditation on how contemporary culture fashions its myths, how it transforms fear into emblem, and how the modern world, unable to escape its own machinery of spectacle, continuously reproduces the warrior as both icon and ghost.
Zhutianyun, she stands in your photograph half-veiled by lace, half-revealed by confidence, a figure who seems to belong both to a stage and to a dream. Her hat widens like a shadowed halo, her cross glimmers under the studio lights, and the tremble of sincerity in her eyes meets the cold geometry of the camera lens. Around her, microphones lean forward as if drawn by gravity. This is the moment a modern myth announces itself—not through thunder, but through presence.
A fever-dream monologue of love, madness, and impossible encounter
I don’t know when I first saw him—only that the moment he turned, everything around me dissolved. The crowd blurred into a smear of colours, the noise folded into a single long chord, and he appeared at the centre of it all, holding a paper fan like a sorcerer idly choosing whom to enchant next. His eyes were calm, mocking, unbearably self-possessed. A small knowing smile cut across his lips, as though he had been waiting for me long before I even stepped into the hall.
Hamamoto’s tribute for Zhutianyun
In the photographs, the world narrows to the movement of a brush. Su Jian leans forward, his hand steady, the calligraphy glove embracing his fingers as though protecting a sacred ritual. Ink flows across the canvas in strokes that are both violent and precise, like the shadows of forgotten battles. This is not simply illustration; this is invocation. In each motion, Su Jian summons a universe of warriors, wastelands, beasts, and haunted landscapes—an alternate realm where history, myth, and speculative futures collide.
In front of ION Orchard—Singapore’s glittering cathedral of commerce—the photograph captured not simply a performance crowd, but a cross-section of the city’s social life, gathered on the terraced steps designed precisely for this purpose: to watch, to rest, to be entertained, to linger.
She moves through the frame with a sense of sharpened presence—shoulders squared, steps assured, her figure cutting across the pavement like a line drawn with purpose. Yet what arrests the viewer is not merely her stride, but the constellation of intentional and unintentional signals gathered around her body: the clothes she wears, the fragments they reveal, the plastic bag she carries, and the surrounding urban stage that witnesses her passage.
There are moments in photography where the world reveals itself not through action, but through pause—through the brief suspension of movement in which an inner truth emerges. In this photograph, a woman sits behind a counter stacked with bread and snacks, her hand resting upon her forehead in a gesture at once ordinary and profound. It is a small gesture, almost invisible amid the surrounding clutter, yet it carries the entire emotional architecture of her world.
In the photograph, one encounters not a simple interior, but a world—dense, inhabited, alive with the murmurs of labour and waiting. This is Lucky Plaza, though not the Lucky Plaza of architectural diagrams or commercial maps. It is the Lucky Plaza of lived experience, of ritual, of community-making. Seen through a phenomenological eye, this salon reveals itself as a place, in the richest sense articulated by Christian Norberg-Schulz: a locus that gathers human life into a meaningful whole.
In the half-shadowed tonality of the photograph, we encounter not a depiction but a disturbance. What unfolds inside this Lucky Plaza salon is less a scene than an event of appearing: an emergence of bodies engaged in gestures both intimate and anonymous, suspended between presence and deferral. The image refuses to be approached as mere representation; rather, it invites contemplation of that which eludes representation—the surplus, the remainder, the trace.
Serene Ong Shwu-Yng is a dynamic and visionary leader whose journey spans healthcare, logistics, entrepreneurship, and women’s empowerment. With more than 20 years of experience in business development, commercial operations, and clinical trial logistics across the US, Europe, and Asia, she has held senior leadership roles—including Vice President of Global Sales Operations and Vice President of Commercial Operations, Asia Pacific at a major healthcare-logistics firm. mentorwalks+ Linkedin
A street mascot in cheerful costume greets children in front of a news screen reporting war in Gaza. An image that captures the contradictions of public space, innocence, and awareness.
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An abandoned shelter on a Seremban rubber plantation speaks volumes—of labour, survival, and absence. As rubber prices fluctuate, who remains to care for the land?
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Step inside the heartbeat of Seremban through Pasar Besar, a vibrant wet market alive with produce, people, and purpose. Discover a living space shaped by labor, culture, and simplicity.
A quiet moment at a Malaysian kopitiam reveals the rituals of aging, healing, and daily community life. From shared breakfasts to TCM treatments, Table 18 becomes a window into the soul of Seremban’s everyday grace.
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A quiet morning near Central Lake in Seremban, captured through a single frame—jackfruit, rambutans, and the humble spirit of a local fruit seller. A reflection on simplicity and sustenance.
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A poignant photograph of a back-lane table and its remnants becomes a meditation on memory, labour, and loss. Through still objects—cigarette boxes, a mop, and a solitary chair—life speaks.
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| Through glass, life refracts. |
A wedding day is a living mosaic—composed not just of vows and ceremonies, but of the fleeting, unguarded moments that weave them together.
It begins in the quiet light of morning, in the careful clasp of a dress or the tightening of a tie. It flows through the time-honoured rituals—the offering of tea to elders, the clasp of hands in prayer—and into the tender silences between father and daughter, bride and groom. As a photographer, my work is to listen with my eyes, to catch the glances, gestures, and pauses that reveal the depth of the day.
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A street photograph taken at the entrance of Jonker Walk, Melaka reveals the layered stories of signage, people, culture, and memory — a reflection on heritage, tourism, and the symbolic language of place.
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A contemplative walk in Kuala Lumpur leads to a chance encounter with a karaoke shrine and the legacy of a global cultural movement. Here, I explore the deep history and enduring magic of karaoke — where ordinary lives echo with extraordinary dreams.
A Smile in Taiping: Morning Radiance at the Char Koay Kak Stall
Photograph taken in Kuala Lumpur, 2025
This photograph is a quiet yet striking meditation on urban life—an image where the city’s geometry becomes both the frame and the subject. Taken from within a pedestrian bridge in Kuala Lumpur, the steel beams dominate the foreground, slicing the scene into sharp triangles and compartments. These bars do not just divide space—they shape how we see, think, and move.
Between Towers and Traffic: The Urban Syntax of Jalan Raja Chulan
An evocative reflection on the pulse of Kuala Lumpur's Jalan Raja Chulan—where traffic, towers, and glass converge in a choreography of modern urban tension, echoing Henri Lefebvre's idea that space is a social product.
in collaboration with Hamamoto Satoshi
... a continuous reflective prose without subheadings, channeling a voice reminiscent of a Nietzschean reader—existential, sharp, paradoxical, and with poetic provocation....
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| Photo by Choo Meng Foo |
By Choo Meng Foo with Hamamoto Satoshi
“To dwell is to leave traces.”
— Walter Benjamin
“The Dao is everywhere. It is in the ant and the blade of grass.”
— Zhuangzi
“Good city streets are like great public rooms—places where people feel at home among strangers.”
— Jan Gehl
Tucked away in the heart of Malacca’s heritage district, the Garden of Heeren is a quiet retreat that blends history, hospitality, and thoughtful design. Situated along the historically rich Heeren Street—once home to wealthy Peranakan merchants—the property stands as a tribute to Malacca’s layered past. The structure has been carefully preserved and reimagined, retaining its old-world charm while offering a contemporary experience for visitors seeking calm amidst the city’s bustling energy.
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| The one left SYAH, ANIP middle , Behind right AFIF. | . |
Alor Setar was officially founded in 1735 by Sultan Muhammad Jiwa Zainal Adilin Mu'adzam Shah II, the 19th Sultan of Kedah. The word Alor refers to a small stream, while Setar comes from the Setar tree (Bouea macrophylla), a tropical fruit-bearing plant common in the area. The city flourished at the confluence of the Kedah River, making it an ideal site for agriculture and administration.
Alor Setar is the seat of the Kedah royal family, one of the world’s oldest continuing monarchies, with over a millennium of lineage. It has played host to numerous events pivotal to Malay sovereignty, especially during Siamese suzerainty, British colonisation, and World War II Japanese occupation.
Alor Setar is the birthplace of two Prime Ministers:
Tunku Abdul Rahman Putra Al-Haj, Malaysia’s first Prime Minister and the Father of Independence.
Tun Dr. Mahathir Mohamad, Malaysia’s longest-serving Prime Minister and a central figure in its modernisation.
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| Anip in the Middle, Anwar on the left. |
Architectural Design: The Sacred Geometry of Empire and Eternity
Masjid Zahir’s architectural language is a synthesis of Mughal grace, Indo-Saracenic balance, and local Malay sensitivity. Completed in 1912 and designed by the Malayan architect James Gorman, it echoes the grandeur of North Indian mosques while grounding itself in the climate and culture of Kedah.
