Money does not grow on trees. Or does it? Talk about taking things literal - behold, a money tree.
Piles and piles of styrofoam boxes lay on the ground at Tsukiji Fish Market.
The romantic side of me laments how old things in Singapore disappear so fast that in a matter of one generation so much has changed, and now, this estate is one of rapid development's latest victims.
There's a sort of charm in the old and decaying, the abandoned and decrepit.
On my fours, I scrambled up the loose volcanic soil of the slopes of Gunung Baru, in the Gunung Rinjani National Park.
The sky turn a fiery red as the sun set upon the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range in Granada, Spain. I hadn't noticed the fire in the city below, however.
I pay tribute to the artists and workers that continue to live out Antoni Gaudí's vision for La Sagrada Família in Barcelona, Spain.
I was taking a walk not too far from the neighbourhood I grew up in when I stumbled upon this area at the ground level of a block of flats (or what we Singaporeans refer to as a “void deck”), where many middle-aged and elderly (mostly) men gathered around with their birds.
To mark the one year since I visited the inexplicably beautiful land of Tibet, I created this photo collage of some photos I took in Tibet.
The land of candy sticks aka Polkagris.
It's not everyday that one would look out of the window to be greeted by hundreds of crocodiles.
Young Tibetans line the top of rooftops, carrying sticks, and singing songs as they paced up and down the rooftop. Here's what they're really doing.