“Not all who wanders are lost” J.R.R Tolkien
Question about home, dream and everything between, photography is my emotional escape, I use it as something to express what I feel in my boring life. 2014, I moved from my hometown and started to live in another city for a study, it affects my life in unknown way that I don’t understand but I can feel it. Photography is my mundane poison that haunted my life, my new space gave me little bit a “surreal” things since it hold the same boring feeling, how could be? Its a new boringness apparently. My boringness lead me to escape and destroy my reality and become my own dream-land. Recollecting Dreams is a poet like stories, feels like dreaming, happen so fragmental and scattered.

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