Photo Diary
Last week, I wrote about the Wulai Creek region in Taipei. Recently, I came across a mural there depicting an assortment of fruits. The entire artwork has fallen into decay, its surface mottled with mould and weathered by time. Yet, in its deterioration, I found it hauntingly unique and strangely beautiful.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Mural Monday
Wulai, a small mountain township south of Taipei, was a place my father often took me to during my childhood. In those days, its beauty was dimmed by neglect — the river that wound through the valley was choked with refuse, and litter drifted upon its surface with every passing day.
Many decades have since passed, and Wulai has undergone a quiet transformation. The once-polluted waters now run clear and green, reflecting the verdant slopes that rise steeply on either side. Though the old timber houses and narrow lanes of the hot spring town remain, their weathered facades speak not of decay, but of endurance.
Wulai, whose name in the Atayal language means “hot water,” has long been known for its natural thermal springs and its place within the cultural heartland of the Atayal people, one of Taiwan’s indigenous groups. Once scarred by industrial waste and unregulated tourism in the latter half of the twentieth century, it has in recent years been restored through sustained conservation efforts and local stewardship.
Today, the air is fresh with mountain mist, the river shimmers with jade clarity, and Wulai stands as a living testament to renewal — a place where memory, nature, and history quietly converge.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Sunday Best
This small estuarine inlet adjoining Stingray Bay is a hidden gem, lying less than a kilometre from where I once stayed, with road access that remains remarkably convenient. The still waters below capture exquisite reflections of sky and vegetation, a mirror to the tranquility of the surrounding landscape.
Stingray Bay itself forms part of the sheltered mouth of the Merri River at Warrnambool, where freshwater mingles with the tides of the Southern Ocean. The area is renowned for its tidal flats and rock platforms, rich in marine life and bird activity — herons, cormorants, and sandpipers frequent the shallows, while stingrays glide silently over the sandy bottom from which the bay takes its name.
Along the inlet’s edge, the weathered wooden barrier now stands as more of an ornament than a necessity, its timbers softened by time and tide. Once built to define or protect, it now blends into the natural scene — a quiet relic of human purpose slowly yielding to nature’s rhythm.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Skywatch Friday
Waixi Creek winds quietly through the misty hills of Pingxi, its water a shade of deep green that seems to hold the reflection of the forest itself. Upstream, I crossed a semi-abandoned bridge, its timbers darkened by age and softened by moss. The air was still, save for the low whisper of water and the faint creak of wood beneath my steps. Ahead, a small fan-shaped waterfall spilled gracefully over rocks, its delicate spread catching the morning light. I lingered there, letting the sound of the water wash over me, not yet in sight of the great Shifen Waterfall but already feeling its presence—somewhere ahead, where the creek gathers itself into strength.
Shifen Waterfall lies deep within the Pingxi Valley of northern Taiwan, where the Keelung River winds through layered stone and forest. The name “Shifen” dates back to the Qing dynasty, when ten families settled in this fertile gorge and divided the land into ten equal portions. Over the centuries, the river shaped the valley into what it is today: a landscape of cliffs, pools, and narrow ravines, where countless tributaries like Waixi feed into the main flow. The region’s bedrock slopes against the direction of the water, forcing it into a magnificent arc as it drops nearly twenty meters across a span of forty. When sunlight pierces the rising mist, a rainbow sometimes forms across the pool, and locals call it the “Rainbow Pond.”
The Shifen area once thrived as a coal-mining settlement during the Japanese colonial period. The Pingxi railway line was built through the valley to carry black coal to the port cities, and its narrow track still runs alongside the river today. Over time, as mining faded into memory, the valley’s rhythm returned to one of water and forest. The old bridges, tunnels, and stone paths remain, quietly reclaimed by moss and vines, linking the past to the present with every weathered beam and rusted nail.
As I followed Waixi upstream that morning, I felt that mixture of age and renewal in every sight—the rustic bridge standing like a remnant of an older world, the creek’s green current alive and changing, and the fan-shaped waterfall fanning out in a quiet gesture of welcome. The larger Shifen Waterfall waited farther down, roaring and majestic, but here in the upper stream there was a gentler beauty. It was a place of pause, where time moved as slowly as the drifting ripples on the water’s surface.
Walking toward the main falls, I realised that what draws one to Shifen is not only the grandeur of the waterfall itself, but the quiet journey toward it. The bridges, the green pools, the minor cascades—each holds a story, a small breath of history and nature intertwined. In that gentle space before the thunder of the falls, the world feels balanced between motion and stillness. The creek, the valley, and the waterfall together form a kind of living memory—Taiwan’s heart reflected in water, stone, and light.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Water H2O Thursday
These photographs, taken during my visit to Sydney in May this year, capture moments I had not yet shared — fragments of a city transformed beneath the luminous spell of Vivid Sydney. Each evening, as twilight descended upon the harbour, the city awakened into a living tableau of light and imagination.
The familiar landmarks of Sydney assumed an otherworldly grandeur. The Opera House, that timeless symbol of grace and geometry, stood resplendent as its sails came alive with shifting hues and intricate projections — a celestial dance of pattern and story. Images of oceanic depths, constellations, and dreamlike abstractions swept across its curved façade, as though the building itself drew breath from the tides below.
Along the harbour’s edge, the spectacle deepened. Sculptures and installations of light rose from the darkness, some bold in stature, others delicate as whispers. Neon phrases glowed like poetry suspended in air, while radiant structures pulsed and shimmered in measured rhythm to unseen music. Even the most familiar forms — the bridge, the quay, the promenade — seemed reborn, veiled in an ethereal luminance that rendered the ordinary sublime.
The city skyline itself became a symphony of colour and reflection. Towers mirrored the hues of the harbour, and the water carried back those same tones, multiplying the beauty until it seemed the heavens had descended to mingle with the sea.
Crowds moved as one body through the illuminated avenues — children with faces upturned, couples strolling hand in hand, and solitary wanderers pausing in reverent stillness. There was, in that mingling of light and humanity, a rare harmony: the sense that for a brief season, Sydney had transcended its material self to become a city of pure light, where art, architecture, and imagination converged in radiant accord.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Sign2
This sea cave along the Bunurong Coast has long since collapsed, its vault surrendered to the sea. Looking back, I am grateful to have captured its likeness when it still stood—through the wide and wondering eye of my beloved Laowa 9mm f/5.6 lens. There is a certain dreamlike distortion in that image, as though the rocks themselves breathed and swayed beneath the ocean’s spell.
The Bunurong Coast, stretching eastward from Inverloch toward Cape Paterson in southern Victoria, bears the ancient imprint of time and tide. Its cliffs, carved from Cretaceous sandstone, reveal layers of the earth’s deep past—here, the footprints of dinosaurs once pressed into mud more than a hundred million years ago; there, fossils of giant ferns whispering of the age before man. Long before European discovery, this rugged shoreline was home to the Bunurong people of the Kulin Nation, who lived in harmony with its rhythms. They fished its rock pools, gathered shellfish from its tidal flats, and told stories of creation woven with the waves and wind.
Today the coast remains a place of austere beauty—where history, both human and geological, converges in the song of the surf. Though the cave itself has fallen, its spirit endures in memory and in the photograph: a fleeting vision of what once was, suspended between earth and sea, and rendered eternal by the lens.
All was green and veiled in mist, the soft radiance of the golden hour diffusing gently through the fog. The air shimmered with that rare union of stillness and light — when the day seems to pause between breath and memory. I lingered there on a Friday afternoon, content simply to witness the quiet splendour of San Remo, Gippsland — where sea and land speak in whispers.
This tranquil place rests upon the traditional lands of the Bunurong people of the Kulin Nation, whose ancestors walked these shores long before the tides carried new names to them. The cliffs, the grasses, and the mists all hold the memory of their presence — stories of fishing grounds, gathering places, and sacred connections that endure beyond time.
Amid the drifting fog and soft gleam of the sinking sun, it felt as though the land itself remembered — its ancient rhythm still pulsing beneath the calm green surface, inviting reflection and quiet reverence.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Sunday Best
I realise there is only a small portion of sky visible in this photograph, yet it still fits within the theme. This image was captured during a period when I was completely fascinated by my ultra-wide 9mm Laowa lens. I was captivated by its ability to exaggerate perspective and include vast surroundings within a single frame, and I found myself experimenting with it in all sorts of situations.
This particular shot was taken at the Portsea sea caves on the Mornington Peninsula, Melbourne. These coastal formations, sculpted over centuries by relentless waves and wind, are renowned for their rugged beauty and dramatic textures. The interplay of light filtering through the cave openings and the reflections from the ocean create a mesmerising scene—one that challenges any photographer to balance composition, exposure, and timing. Creativity should certainly count for something, especially when working in such dynamic and unpredictable natural settings.
Sony A7RV
Laowa 9mm f5.6
Linking Skywatch Friday
Melbourne has been drenched in unrelenting rain for the past fortnight, and Joel and I have grown restless, longing to venture out this weekend in search of new coastal sunsets to capture. Among the many memories of our past excursions, the view from Pearses Bay remains vivid in my mind.
Perched upon the overhanging cliff, I took the photograph as the sun sank low over the restless sea. My heart beat rapidly—not only from the precarious height beneath my feet but from the sheer beauty of the scene before me. The light that evening was golden and tender, bathing the rugged coastline in a warmth that seemed to defy the cool ocean breeze.
Pearses Bay, tucked away along the back beaches of the Mornington Peninsula, is a place of quiet splendour—remote, wind-swept, and largely untouched. The journey there winds through narrow sandy trails framed by coastal heath and scrub, where the scent of salt and tea tree hangs in the air. Few visitors make their way down to its crescent of pale sand, hemmed in by weathered limestone cliffs. Standing above it at sunset, one feels suspended between sea and sky—a moment of solitude and awe that lingers long after the light fades.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Water H2O Thursday
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Here are a few displays from the Lego exhibition that I have not shared before—small marvels of imagination captured in brick and colour, offered now for the Sign2 day.
Life remains rather busy of late. My mother often reminds me that it is far better to be busy than to be idle—especially in one’s profession. There is comfort, perhaps even dignity, in the steady hum of work, in knowing that the long years of perseverance have at last borne fruit in the form of loyal clients and a modest reputation hard-won. Yet, amid the rush, I came across an article that unsettled me—it claimed that every person endures three or four existential crises throughout the course of a lifetime. What a dreadful thought, to imagine those chasms of doubt returning again and again!
Still, perhaps such reckonings are the price of being fully human. We build our lives as we build with Lego—piece by piece, uncertain at times of the final form, but guided by quiet faith in the structure taking shape beneath our hands. And though the world may tilt with its crises and reckonings, there remains a kind of grace in the act of creating, in the small, luminous moments we pause to share.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Sign2
The photograph was taken at Port Melbourne’s historic Princes Pier, though not during the golden hour that so often bathes the sea in honeyed light. Rather, it was a spontaneous shot—one of those unplanned moments that arise when the day’s itinerary dissolves and the camera remain the only faithful companion. Joel and I had wandered aimlessly that afternoon, having run out of places to go, when the glimmer of light on the water caught my eye. The air was mild, tinged with the scent of salt and timber, and the long-weathered pylons stood solemnly like sentinels of the past. I pressed the shutter almost absentmindedly, more out of habit than expectation. Yet, to my astonishment, that very image would later win a prize in a national photography competition. It felt strange and humbling that a fleeting, almost casual moment could be recognized amidst so many crafted works.
Afterwards, Joel and I drove to St Kilda, that lively seaside district known for its old amusement pier and cosmopolitan charm. We found a small souvlaki joint tucked between the shops, the sort of place that greets you with the aroma of grilled lamb and oregano before you even step inside. The lamb chops were extraordinarily juicy, glistening with their own fat, charred just enough to release a whisper of smoke. We ate in companionable silence, watching the slow descent of twilight over the esplanade—the sea turning from steel to violet, the city lights beginning their nightly shimmer.
In retrospect, that day feels like a quiet meditation on chance and reward—the way beauty can appear without warning, and how memory often attaches itself to the simplest acts: a photograph taken without intention, a meal shared without ceremony. Princes Pier, in its weathered grace, seemed to speak of time’s patient endurance, the lamb in St Kilda, of life’s earthy pleasures. Between them lay the essence of the day—an unassuming harmony between art, friendship, and the small felicities that make an ordinary afternoon unforgettable.
Sony A7RV
FE 16-35mm f2.8 GM
Linking Treasure Tuesday
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I did not know who painted this mural, yet it caught my eye as I wandered up the street with my camera in hand, seeking candid moments of the city. Upon the corner wall, a vivid portrait emerged — a young woman with two braids falling neatly over her shoulders, her gaze direct and luminous, reminiscent of the youthful glamour of pop icons. The interplay of magenta, turquoise, and tangerine hues lent the work a pulse of energy, as if the very air around it shimmered with rhythm. There was something refreshing in its presence — a burst of colour and spirit that seemed to awaken the quiet street, reminding me that art often finds us when we least expect it.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Mural Monday
Once again, Joel and I visited this rugged coast last weekend. Our wandering led us to a secluded section of the bay adorned with striking rock formations and restless, foaming waters. There we set up our equipment and devoted ourselves to capturing the scene from various angles, the rhythm of the waves providing both challenge and inspiration. Time slipped away unnoticed; scarcely had we taken a few frames before the sun sank beyond the horizon, casting a final glow upon the sea.
The approach to this spot, along the winding trail of the Back Beach on the Mornington Peninsula, was itself a quiet delight — a path bordered by coastal shrubs and windswept dunes, where the air carried the mingled scents of salt and tea-tree. It is a place that rewards both the patient walker and the watchful eye, revealing new beauty with every turn.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Sunday Best
In the quiet rhythm of the countryside, the water buffalo move like dark shadows across the green expanse of the farm. Their great horns curve like crescents of moonlight, and their hides glisten beneath the sun’s patient gaze. Each slow step presses the earth with the weight of centuries—beasts that have ploughed fields, drawn carts, and stood beside humankind since time began. They graze in silence, tails flicking lazily, their breath rising in soft clouds that mingle with the scent of grass and soil. Around them, the air hums with stillness, and the land seems to remember their strength—the steadfast companions of toil and harvest, guardians of the pastoral heart.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Saturday Critter
A place I once frequented, though visiting has become increasingly difficult to plan. The Laowa lens creates a pronounced vignetting that deepens the atmosphere of this sombre image, casting an almost timeless mood over the scene.
The Nevada Rocks of Portsea, located along the Mornington Peninsula’s rugged southern coast, form part of the dramatic basalt and sandstone formations that have withstood relentless winds and tides from Bass Strait for millennia. These rocks tell the story of ancient volcanic activity and gradual marine erosion that shaped Victoria’s coastal geology. Over time, the elements carved out weathered ledges and sculptural outcrops that today stand as both a natural wonder and a silent witness to the passage of time.
Human presence here has long been intertwined with the sea. Early European settlers and fishermen sought shelter in the coves, while Portsea itself grew into a seaside retreat in the late nineteenth century, famed for its cliff-top mansions and its proximity to Fort Nepean—once a sentinel guarding the entrance to Port Phillip Bay. Today, Nevada Rocks remains a place of quiet solitude and untamed beauty, where the power of nature meets traces of human history in equal measure.
Sony A7RV
Laowa 9mm f5.6
Linking Skywatch Friday
This image was captured with a telephoto zoom lens from a considerable distance. Such an approach is uncommon in landscape photography, yet I chose to remain afar — for good reason. The place, known as Cadillac Gorge near San Remo, possesses a beauty both austere and perilous. Beneath its brooding cliffs, the restless sea breathes with deceptive calm before breaking into sudden fury. Local fishermen know its temperament too well; from time to time, a rogue wave surges without warning, sweeping the unwary from the rocks into the cold embrace of the Bass Strait. From afar, the gorge appears serene — a meeting of wind, water, and rugged stone — yet its silence carries the echo of untold stories, both majestic and tragic.
Sony A7RV
FE 70-200mm f4 G
Linking
I remember well the nightly strolls I took after the conference that week in Christchurch, New Zealand — quiet wanderings through streets alive with renewal and the soft pulse of evening light. The city, still bearing the echoes of its trials, has a spirit both gentle and resilient, and I was drawn to its mingling of history and reinvention.
The first image I captured shows the weathered shell of a vintage car, its surface adorned with signs and words — a collage of memory and message, like a poem written upon metal. It stood as both relic and artwork, a testament to the city’s creative soul that transforms what once was into something enduringly expressive.
In the second image, a barber works beneath the glow of lamplight, his shop modest yet full of life. Outside, a sign reads New York — an echo of distant dreams set within the quiet streets of Christchurch. Together, these scenes spoke to me of place and passage: how cities, like people, gather stories in their scars, and how beauty often lingers most where time has touched it deeply.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Sign2
The mural, an impressive and expansive work, first caught my attention when I visited Christchurch earlier this year for a conference. Revisiting the photograph now for Mural Monday, I am struck anew by its vibrancy and significance — a fine testament to the city’s enduring spirit and creative renewal in the years following the major earthquake.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Mural Monday
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Cadillac Gorge at San Remo is best visited when the tide breathes gently against the rocks — high enough for drama, yet low enough to let you wander into its sculpted heart. That day, however, the sea had risen too far, climbing to 1.1 metres, a restless height that sealed the gorge from reach. The air was thick with the scent of salt and the sound of water striking stone, each surge echoing through the basalt walls like a low, thunderous heartbeat.
Joel stood a little distance away, cautious of the spray that leapt unpredictably from the rocks. I remember how the wind lifted droplets that glistened like glass in the pale afternoon light. In the pools nearby, small whirls turned upon themselves — patient, persistent, as if tracing the rhythm of the ocean’s hidden pulse.
Though we could not step into the gorge that day, its beauty was no less felt. Cadillac Gorge revealed itself in fragments — in the crash of waves, in the shimmer of foam, and in the humbling reminder that nature does not always open her doors, but when she does, it is on her own, magnificent terms.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Sunday Best
The place I was meant to visit was actually immersed in sea water right there. Another day of miscalculation. But before the staircase down to the beach, I spotted these misty glow in the valley nearby. It is quite pleasant
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Skywatch Friday
