Chinhooi Ng's Storage for Inspiration

Photographic phrases, passages, pastel proses


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Days

Days are like a needle, piercing through colorful threads of life, weaving ordinariness; embroidering wonderfulness.

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My cover of “This Old House” by Priscilla Ahn

https://instaud.io/NAO

Lyrics

This old house on the shore
Swear that I’ve been here before
It came to me in a dream one morning

I looked up saw you there
Through the window on a chair
Your golden hair was shining in the sunbeam

And I said ooh there you are
You’re my favorite star, shining bright and free
And no matter where you go
I will always know that you were there for me

In a boat on the sand you will show me who I am
I look for you each and every morning
Meet me here on the pier
Tonight the water is so clear
Reflecting you and I beneath the moonlight

And I said ooh there you are
You’re my favorite star, shining bright and free
And no matter where you go
I will always know that you were there for me

Sharing all our fears and hopes and dreams
I will keep your secrets safe with me (with me)

And I said ooh there you are
You’re my favorite star, shining bright and free
And no matter where you go
I will always know that you were there for me

And I said ooh there you are
You’re my favorite star, shining bright and free
And no matter where you go
I will always know that you were there for me

This old house on the shore
Swear that I’ve been here before
It came to me in a dream one morning


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Bamboo

-A clump of bamboo by the river are like green crayons, coloring the sky, dyeing the river.

-The moon shines on the bamboo forest, spilling milky moonlight and shadows of bamboo on the floor.

-At noon, it’s the liveliest time in the forest, the lovely tortoise begins to sing a song, the crickets play the piano, the ants start to dance in their shiny black attire.

-Bamboo blocks the hot sun for us, creating a cool world. The ringing of stream and rustling of bamboo leaves become a beautiful melody, making people feel so clearly, the existence of nature.

-The distant bamboo forest is like a green protective screen, obscuring the summer heat. The bamboo is really green, as if pigmented by the rain. Lovely bamboo shoots are like bright yellow pagodas, or little gyroscopes.

-Bamboo is full of treasures up and down. It  can be planted as ornamental plant, it’s a very good building material and also it can be made into a musical instrument.  Bamboo shoots are pure natural green food, delicious, nutritious. Bamboo leaves have the ability to purify the air, reduce noise and improve environmental quality. They can be used to wrap zongzis .

-Bamboo in the rain, a refrreshing sight, spreading an aroma mixed with soil, diffusing a fascinating psychedelic charm, as if hidden with secrets of fairy.


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Afternoon

Afternoon, bright sunlight dancing on the windowsill, sullenness inside the house is swiftly swept away, the room is shiny, exuding the smell of sun. The enthusiasm of sunlight is flowing boldly, even the little flash of shadow in the soul is expeled.

When it comes to afternoon tea, the original image in our heart comes from the early classic English film and television, the women who wear elegantly, holding porcelain of beautiful shapes, having a conversation. Sometimes they whisper, sometimes they laugh; the exquisite snacks in their plates, testing their taste buds. With touch of flowers, soft music, creating a friendly and warm afternoon time.

The sky is clear, sun is shining specklessly, warm blessings slowly come, bringing inexplicable comfort to the inner world.

A quiet afternoon time, my hand touching warm papers, positive energy in the text rises in the heart, like a cordial conversation. Holding a cup of tea, thoughts are immersed in the distant depths of fragrance, of quiet.

The sun is hanging far up in the air, sharing lofty light and warmth. Looking at the fine and slender tea leaves, becoming more 3-dimensional in the steamy water, the mind at that moment becomes pure and comfy.

The afternoon sun, like the clear taste of toffee, and reminds me of the plum soup, an enjoyable color and taste. The sunshine is an abundance of fresh honey, a kind of gratifying delicious dish, a beautiful poetry, a picturesque reverie.

The constantly emerging people and things filling up my memory. When the naughty sunshine leaps into the eye, memory is interupted. The sunshine carrying a deep warmth, fragrance of time, quietly nourishing the heart. It’s a warm holy force, sweeping away the haze, keeping the thinking agile, bringing strength and comfort, an unlimited wealth.

The afternoon time breeding the light of thoughts. Feelings stranded at the bottom of heart, with flashiness omitted, become calmer and simpler. Mottled sunlight warming every corner, every dust.

Golden sun sprinkling lazily in a small courtyard on the edge of the city. I’d like to slow down, and think rationally, and step lightly upon the warmth of flowers, in this fragrant world.

The wind blowing like broken fleeting time, her smile swaying, and has become the most beautiful embellishment on my journey, against the deep shadows of seasons.

The autumn sun is covered with orange light shade, radiating a soft mellow light, adding whiffs of warmth to the sky.


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Sunrise

-The sun’s home–the horizon lights up. Even the ferocious sea is motionless, lying down quietly, enjoying the exceptionally soft sunlight, the city is soundless, only a few barks from the distant village. The ruddy cloud changes into a bright white dress, like a bride walking down the aisle.

-The sun is rising, fog is rolling, gradually thinning, like the peak of an iceberg, like a mirage. The sun with an orange halo, like a gigantesque persimmon. The reddish juice of the persimmon dribbled on the greenish mountain, dyeing it a prosperous color, then it proceeds to dominate the world.

-The beautiful sun represents the vitality of youth, the hope of life, it is full of passion, letting people feel the beauty of life. The distant sound of rooster takes away the last remnants of darnkess. Sunrise is an exiting wonderful scene, not only is it solemn and sacred, it is vigorous.


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Kite

-The sky is full of a wide range of kites, trembling, floating, toward the clouds, toward the future. Whether you’re a dragon, a phoenix, swallow or sparrow, everyone’s equal when they’re in the sky.

-When the kite line broke, big octopus became small octopus, then small octopus became small flying insect, disappeared into the blue sky, into the universe without a trace.

-Kites of all shapes and sizes and colors, a long line of butterfly, dragonfly, eagle, sheep, bat, centipede, parrot, goldfish… flying freely in the sky, beautiful like a kaleidoscope.

-Kite is like a bird, it can fly freely; kite is like a windmill, it can only be awakened by the wind; kite is like rainbow, when you see it, you’ll think it’s the most beautifulk thing.


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Rain

-Rain, like silver needles, falling from the sky, decorating mountains and valleys; like bright pearls falling, inlaid in the green earth.

-Rain falling on the pond, drawing symbols on the water surface, which are little circular ripplets. Rainwater flows down the stairs of the fourth floor, and the little balcony next to the classroom continues to suppl water to plants on the ground.

-Bead-like raindrops sweeping past the raging waves of wheat, sparking mist on the crests, painting the field with the marker of dream. Rain quietly falls, like silkworms spitting out countless threads of silver, like a veil rippling in the air.

-Drizzle always brings a kind of good mood, moistening the earth slightly. Walking alone on a country path, draped with drizzle, sniffing the fragrance of the air, listening to the sound of spring returning to earth.

-Listening to the rain is a kind of enjoyment. Sitting by the door or window, listening to the dripping ticking sound of environment, calming impeutous hearts, washing away the worries in the mind, washing away the dust on the mango tree.

-Rain falling quietly down the glass window, like sugar, like jelly, like a colored string, woven into a piece of quiet hidden with life. I feel happy, as if the rain has brought me to another place far away.

-Layers of dark clouds are like a big hard dam in the sky. The rain pouring downward, breaking the mirror of lake, scaring little fish.

-Rainwater flowing on the bluestone road, like shallow fleeting years.

-Rain falling, forming mini lakes on the ground, and the mound is an isle, and drifting leaves are canoes.

-Buildings in the distance are shrouded in hazy rain, like a mirage flickering with silks of red light.

-Misty rain , pure and poetic like spring water in the mountain, diffusing the sky, no gloomy sadness, only fresh greenness.

-Misty rain is like a precious garment of the sky. The ticking call is a masterpiece of tiny raindrops.

-Rain getting heavier, wind getting anxious, the roads are flooded, heaven and earth become a world of water.

-After the rain, the sky is like blue tiles newly washe and shining. The air is filled with scent of wet soil, intimate and comfortable.