Not much writing on this post, just a few images - faces, and many of the similar, may be some not quite similar will appear in later posts.
I started the blog with the face of Buddha, it would be more justified to continue with a monk, a boy monk. This little monk by the iron cast bell in Shwedagon, a typical Myanmar boy. He is a boy regardless being a monk, like many orther I will meet and photograph in ths trip - quite photo obsessed;
Another monk, one of those million monks in Myanmar, calm, peaceful, and respectful. I often thought I have enough imagination on many things, being a monk is not among them.
Maintenance workers at duty. Painting the column, the ceiling, everywhere needs them. The point is, a place like Shwedagon with its historical significance is maintained by the less educated, low wage worker; does this make sense? May be, may be not. But hey, a native British fellow photographer and friend, Don Forsyth told me that his stomach knocks whenever he returns England to have his passport inspected by non-British-immegrant turned immigration officer - all because they will take the jobs of lower pay, does not suggest higher intellengence. This is 2011, the world is operating with a new logic.
The locals, all different kind, man or woman, young or aged, they all seemed to have time, most have good time, often a lot of time.
The prayers, all the kinds, all the time.
The cat (or dog), eventually becomes the most saught after element of a picture during the trip. Here in the beginning of the trip, is in the stage by itself.
I started the blog with the face of Buddha, it would be more justified to continue with a monk, a boy monk. This little monk by the iron cast bell in Shwedagon, a typical Myanmar boy. He is a boy regardless being a monk, like many orther I will meet and photograph in ths trip - quite photo obsessed;
Another monk, one of those million monks in Myanmar, calm, peaceful, and respectful. I often thought I have enough imagination on many things, being a monk is not among them.
Maintenance workers at duty. Painting the column, the ceiling, everywhere needs them. The point is, a place like Shwedagon with its historical significance is maintained by the less educated, low wage worker; does this make sense? May be, may be not. But hey, a native British fellow photographer and friend, Don Forsyth told me that his stomach knocks whenever he returns England to have his passport inspected by non-British-immegrant turned immigration officer - all because they will take the jobs of lower pay, does not suggest higher intellengence. This is 2011, the world is operating with a new logic.
The locals, all different kind, man or woman, young or aged, they all seemed to have time, most have good time, often a lot of time.
The prayers, all the kinds, all the time.
The cat (or dog), eventually becomes the most saught after element of a picture during the trip. Here in the beginning of the trip, is in the stage by itself.
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