Photo Diary: Of crimson and gold (Yosemite, CA)

“Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with it’s last beauty, as if nature has been saving up all year for the grand finale.”
– Lauren DeStefano, Wither

I’ve always dreamt of fall since forever partly because it’s that one time when all of my favorite colors would come to life. The crimsons, the auburns, the olives. And maybe partly because there is something poetic of the way nature takes the grandest of bows before a temporary death. This was something that I was looking forward to ever since I knew I’ll travel to the US. For someone who hasn’t experienced it before first-hand, I’m weirdly attached to it – and somehow it always felt like it is where I belong.

There’s a sort of magic in those moments within the woods. Everything seemed to glow bright. The golds of the sunlight reflected differently. And amidst the withered leaves and dried barks, it’s as if it the forest is more alive that it ever is.

Wearing pumpkin spice and wonder, I was able to finally bring a book in this magical setting. I’ve always had Murakami’s Kafka wherever I go and I’m glad this place is no exception. There’s something really wonderful at the thought of reading a book in place surrounded by crisp air and vivid foliage. I’m not someone who enjoys the outside that much but slow walks and these moments are things that make me change my mind.

I’ve always been obsessed with dappled lights and sunset flares in my outdoor pictures. It always brings be back to Turtles All The Way Down – Aza’s has her dead father’s phone and scrolling through it, she found countless pictures of dappled lights, random images of spotted shadows of trees he took from everywhere. She didn’t know if there’s any significance to it and she will never know because, now, her father is not there to answer. And I find myself identifying with it – the compulsive idea of taking it. I find them nostalgic and beautiful and sad. Even if I don’t know why. I’d like to believe that’s how Aza’s father felt too, sometimes.