The never-ending debate is -- can we capture nature's beauty without complicated, heavy camera gears? Can we capture nature's beauty without losing the opportunity to actually "Be There" and fully enjoy the moment? Honestly, these are the fundamental questions I've been asking myself since Day 1 of my journey in photography.
Thursday, February 18, 2021
Winter Wonderland 2021
Wednesday, January 20, 2021
Mexico
Mexico
By Michelle P. Zhang, MD
I don’t want to die here.
Take me back to the beaches of Mexico,
where the warm sun rays hit the ocean
in just such a way
that I see the reflections of my father’s hands
working hard to build our futures.
Take me back to where the salty winds blow
through the wide leaves of tall palm trees,
echoing the songs that my mother sang,
lulling me into the dreams of my youth.
I don’t want to die here.
Here, there are strangers –
their hands are foreign and aseptic,
covered in latex, lacking the warmth of another human.
If they smile, I can’t see it – their faces distant
behind masks and faceshields.
I think that their eyes betray concern.
I understand their words through scattered consonants,
but they do not speak the language of my ancestors.
I understand only
fragments
of the position that I am in.
I don’t want to die here.
Take me back to the beaches of Mexico, where the
gentle water tickles my toes
like my little girl running in the backyard
tripping over me with her small –
oh so small –
little feet.
Take me back to where her footprints are.
I don’t want to die here.
The last meal I had was something
tasteless and unrecognizable.
A concession, not a feast.
Oh, how I miss the flavors from back home.
Here, nobody knows who I am beyond age and disease.
Here, nobody holds my hand except to draw my blood, and
it hurts each time.
I don’t want to die here.
Take me back to the beaches of Mexico, where
my wife has held my hand
on countless sunset walks.
She and I etched a heart into the sand,
made our mark of love onto this world like
we all hope to do.
The memory of her face lights up this dark room like
a full moon.
I don’t want to die here.
Let me die on the beaches of Mexico,
with the things that I have come to know,
with the things that have made my heart tender.
But my lungs – they are heavy,
have they turned to concrete?
The weight of them makes me think that
I may not see tomorrow
without being placed on the strangers’ machines.
They tell me I must fall into a deep sleep,
and the machines will breathe life into me.
But please, can I ask you –
If I must go into the darkness now, tell me –
will you, stranger, still be here when I wake up?
Wednesday, January 6, 2021
Sunset Delight
This photo was taken 9 years ago today on 1-6-2012. Wow, what a difference 9 years could make!!
I still remember that calm day from 9 years ago when I just started my photography journey. The air was cold, but fresh; the pond was empty, but not lonely; the sun was setting, but brightly beautiful with endless hope...
Friday, January 1, 2021
My Father
As I sat here composing this email, I wasn't sure how to title the message. Should it be about "decluttering" or about "my father?"
Thursday, December 31, 2020
Goodbye 2020
2020 will go down history as one of
the very few years that billions of people wish to forget. At the
end of 2020, history deserves a tally of the human price we've paid, and
continue to pay... May each lost soul Rest in Peace.
Tuesday, December 29, 2020
100 Years Ago and Today...
It's about time for me to utilize my analytical skills to help you see Covid-19 stats horizontally and vertically. Attached below are the Covid-19 numbers from yesterday, 12/28/2020.












