It was oceans of people.

I remember the place all too well. Despite the terminal being much smaller than KLIA, it promised just as many fables. Confined to being regional? maybe, but enthralling nonetheless.

I dove into the human stew, scared, anxious and ready for the journey ahead. As a maelstorm of passengers tore down the terminal and up into the bright red aircraft, I galvanised into my ubiquitous routine of settling into my seat, earphones on and chancing my arm with sleep. That said, I am perpetually transfixed by the expansive turquoise sky and its welcoming clouds the minute the locomotion reaches a few thousand feet.

It wasnt long before I was basking in the evening glow between lush hills, hundreds of miles from home. The sweet smell of herbs and floral life filling the air as the shadows of day lengthen.

People often ask me why I visit these people so frequently. Well, one of the reasons is that, for me at least, living with them has been a bit like reading a bestselling novel. You know the feeling ; the story's so gripping, the characters are all so colourful. There are so many twists and turns that you just cant put it down. You want to keep reading on and on, to find out what's going to happen next. And just when you think you've got the whole plot figured out and you're sure you know how its all going to end-BANG! there's yet another surprised and you just have to read on some more.

So there I was, in the middle of the borneo rainforest, the sound of frying in the background, the gentle hum of the rain falling on through the treetops lulling me into slumber. Soaking in the beauty, silence, presence of these jungle souls. It was scorching hot that afternoon. But then the weather tricked us with rain equally as violent. I slept, woke up glistening with sweat. My hair matted to the temples of my forehead, my lips almost a pale shade of mauve. I made my way up the steep hill, into a semi settled village. Basic sulaps were present; rough logs tied together with bamboo, makeshift kitchens with charred pots and kettles omnipresent. I dont know if I missed home. Because this felt like home too.

As per usual, I found myself submerged in quiet conversations around the kitchen fire. There was scepticism and anger about official pronouncements in the air. I can sense the despair, the worry from these gentle souls. The dying fire, luten, set a bronze glow on their soft features, my eyes transfixed on their beauty. It wasnt long before their soft-spoken conversation became my Ambien. 5 minutes, and Im sure to knock out!

Jokes aside, I get where they are coming from. In the 1970s, you became a grandparent at 45. Grandparents saw their main role in life as caring for their grandchildren. Now the elderly, dont live very long but their families are more scattered, and the children, by the time they start having children of their own, are more financially secure. They leave, find work, travel and the line of transmission of knowledge form the old to the young , breaks down.

I realize this is terribly sententious. The more equivalent of a motto from a bank brochure. Still, just because something is obvious, doesnt automatically mean it is totally lacking in value.

And for that reason ( well one of them at least ), I certainly wont stop going to places where these things happen.

Its only been a few hours, but my brother's mess, the small spaces that arent even mine anymore are starting to get me irritated. Like a true weird nomad, I'm back at my parents place. Except its only been occupied by my brother, so the apartment and all its bachelour-scent glory is his. I'm not here for good though. Gosh whenever am I anywhere for good?

The A-levels Chapter of my life is finally over.I can finally breathe easy, and most importantly do things I've been dying to do with my photography, my travels, and dysfunctional family. There's talks of travels, promise of fables, dreams of a better and improved me. So much to work on, and ample time given to boot. Time to bag peaks, meet new people, and soak in life. SOAK IT INNNNN. WOOOHHHH. no holding back, no regrets. Just staying at home, playing sims till I collect dust and probably rot a little haha. I kid I kid.

"Great chatting, Sofiyah. Seriously, your work is incredible some of the most powerful documentary-style shots I've seen". - Photographer Dave Brosha from Canada. view his work here http://davebrosha.com/




I've stopped picking up my camera for months now.
Hope I havent lost touch with the shutter button completely.

I'll come back with a bang!

I just realized, where am I going to stay after my A-levels?


I've been living on my own for the past 2 years whilst studying my A levels, and now that I have a month left to go I have no clue what I'm going to do next.

I dont want to live with my brother, in my parents apartment in Shah Alam/subang, plus being the same building with the rest of my siblings. Heck, my room doesnt even have a bed anymore, my mom gave it way when I "moved out" to study.

And although going back to Dubai seems like a better option, I'm sure my parents dont want to live with me either. They're used to their space and routines and having me there dossing around will irritate them.

Another thing that sucks? No Iqa, no Hannah, no Sha, no Cheryl, no Rob.

feels like the minute my A levels ends, someone's gonna cut all my strings and I'll be left to fall.

I'm a hypocrite.


I've always blamed my sister of escaping. Escaping her problems, escaping reality and turning her back away instead of just dealing, you know?


I realize that I'm exactly the same. I claim myself to be nomad, moving from place to place, jumping from scene to scene , from group of friends to another group of friends. I'm escaping from something. I've never stayed long enough anywhere to anchor down and make REAL caring friends. People have always just moved in and out of my life, the constants? My family. I never deal. I hide, I keep quiet, I cry. The phone rings and I'll leave it on silent. I go out with people I dont even fancy, insincerity so thick in the air I'm left spent. I dont know where I'm going. What I'm doing. All I want to do is run, and escape. Its funny how I used to always tease my parents of being loners. My dad is not the mamak type with colleagues ( never goes out with work mates ) and mum only has 1 bestfriend. I'm no different. Im alone most the time.

okay this is starting to sound like rant.

anyway, I found quote both unsettling and consoling.

“A man came to the Prophet, and asked him to compare the life in this world, to the life in the hereafter,” my uncle said. “The Prophet said to [the man] ‘If you dip your finger into the ocean, and take it out, the water left on your finger is like this world, and what’s left in the ocean is what’s still to come.’”
-Slice of Lemon