Disclaimer: Most of the photos on this posting were taken between 2023 and 2025 as I no longer have access to my old photos. All photographs, unless stated otherwise, were shot with my Sony RX100 IV camera.

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2007: An Introduction to Light

The first camera that I owned came from a business trip my mom took to Hong Kong in 2007—a Canon Powershot G7. I saw it as a tool to complement my writing, which I’d already been doing through physical journals and early blogs. But one rainy day, I stepped into our front garden, played around with the macro function, and, boom, everything changed.

Despite the gloomy weather, I fell in love with light. I saw the world differently, and boy, was it beautiful behind the viewfinder (or LCD screen).

I became curious about the small world that people took for granted. There was something endearing about raindrops resting on leaves, the busyness of insects breaking decaying matter into nutrients for the soil, and the complexity of leaf structures—the network of veins keeping plants alive. I even enjoyed shooting house spiders, lizards, and friendly stray cats up close.

It was, quite literally, the little things.

I also looked at the big picture and enjoyed landscape photography. Whenever I traveled to different provinces for vacation, I’d bring my camera along and take shots of the road, on the road… not to mention the obligatory golden hour shots whenever I’m at the beach.

Through photography, I fell in love with the world. And in those moments when I was just snapping away, I loved myself, too.

2011-2014: Chasing Illumination

All those photos are gone now, lost to an old laptop, but I remember how it felt. That feeling made me decide to try out a career in magazine publishing after graduation.

Working as an editorial assistant and features writer opened more opportunities to learn from established photographers of different genres, from studio, fashion, to travel photography. I was in the same space with the likes of Paco Guerrero, BJ Pascual, and Pilar Bonin. Absorbing their knowledge through casual conversation was just… *chef’s kiss*.

However, magazine journalism wasn’t quite the fit I thought it would be. While the excitement of working in a fast-paced industry had its moments, I often found myself feeling disconnected. My creative spark began to fade. It was a combination of personal challenges, including an abusive relationship, my bipolar and PCOS diagnoses, and the complexities of life that made it hard for me to find my rhythm.

2015-2022: The Light Fades

Transitioning from magazine journalism to digital marketing was a shift in pace—and freedom. Gone were the glamorous PR events and soirees, replaced by a straightforward 9–5. It felt like a trade at first, but the lack of fulfillment set in as I bounced from job to job, chasing higher paychecks rather than aligning with my true passions, all for the sake of paying for my therapy and medicines, the bills, utilities, and rent, and catering to a man-child.

Harsh adulting happened, basically. I still had a DSLR up until early 2016, but… well. Shit hit the fan… and I was the fan. I didn’t bother owning a camera again after that.

I eventually found a long-term job in January 2020, and broke free from my toxic relationship in April, at the height of the pandemic.

But I was wrapped in self-hatred and resentment. I first had to unpack my trauma through therapy, but because I was isolated during quarantine, I buried myself in work.

I didn’t hold a camera again until late 2022, when my boss sold me his Sony RX100 IV—a camera I still use today. By coincidence, I bought it around the same time I got into cycling and acquainted myself with the bike commuting community.

I was taking photos with my now-both-dead Samsung S20 and iPhone 7 Plus at that time, so it took a while for me to get used to bringing a camera around again. The reconnection wasn’t immediate, nor was it welcomed. The once-comfortable sensation felt alien to me.

Besides, I had no one to talk to about all of this. I couldn’t find someone to learn from or at least vent out to. Everyone I tried to hang out with talked about the kits they have, not the light they captured. They cared more about “the perfect” gear and settings than just… well, shooting their shot.

No one was telling me the story of their shots. Everything was flat, no matter how technically polished they looked.

Nevertheless, I continued lugging my camera around during community rides, tried to document whatever was going on… all the while feeling disconnected from both camera and creations.

Was this really something I want to get back to?

2023: The Year of The Burnout

And then June 2023 happened. Just as I was starting to enjoy photography again, I broke my right humerus in half–and part of that bone wedged out, too–in a self-inflicted crash in the basement parking of my condo building.

What was worse was that I developed radial nerve palsy, so my hand was numb and partially paralyzed. It was hard to type, to hold a pen, to move my mouse, to press the shutter button.

To add insult to literal injury, I was let go from my previous job, just a few days after my crash and before my surgery.

Creative juices gone. No income. A broken arm. A broken spirit. I felt like I was building my life from scratch again. I was in a severely depressed state for a few months; I wasn’t eating properly, and all I did was sleep or lie in bed awake. There was no drive to create. No drive to live.

I was burned out. I wanted to stop existing.

2024-Present: Recharged and Ready to Go

Thankfully, things picked up in November 2023, just before my birthday, and I had been using much of 2024 to get back on my feet: get back on the bike and get stronger.

Yet the camera remained in my drawer.

That is, until January 2025, when I hung out with a friend who showed his photobooks to me. One set of photos stood out: shots of birds flying about in Turkiye at different times of the day. I don’t know why but they’re seared into my mind. Those photos felt alive despite being still. The captured movement of the birds, the interplay of presence, space, and time–all those elements reminded me so much of that moment in the rain 17 years ago.

That was when I heard a familiar rhythm reverberating through my soul again.

That weekend, I recharged my camera’s batteries.

And here I am today… wherever “here” is.

Re-becoming the person who once fell in love with light at 18 while experiencing life as it happens now…

… Whenever “now” is.

Shooting My Shot, Again

I’m a product of bad decisions, persistent self-doubt, and a stubborn need for redemption. And through it all, I’m learning that moving forward doesn’t always mean leaving your old self behind. Sometimes, it means returning to what’s essential—with a few new bits and bobs as upgrades along the way.

My road to re-becoming isn’t perfect, but it’s enough. For now. All I know is that I’m happy to go back to the things that matter: The light. The moment. The sense of place. The stories.

The being.

Photography, like cycling, is how I relentlessly search for light beyond the fringes of light, between the cracks of reality’s beautiful absurdity. And writing is how I intepret and express my love of that beautiful absurdity.

I’m back, a little bruised, a little broken, but still beaming with the same love for light-filled stories blooming just beyond the edge of the frame.

Hey, it’s a-me, Myta~