Horse Art

house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
house with front view
It is better to dwell in the corner of the housetop, than with a brawling woman and in a wide house.
Traditional tea house in garden
It is better to dwell in the corner of the housetop, than with a brawling woman and in a wide house.
They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat; for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be, and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.
They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat; for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be, and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.
They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat; for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be, and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.
no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress. No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime; for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth, and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed. They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.
At her Mother's house in Penang, Wing Sun's mother, a beautiful chinese woman in her 30s, is standing in her bedroom looking out the window at night. We see her from a quarter view inside the room. She is pensive and an air of tension fills the room as she remembers growing up in this house. Her hair is long and black, and she's wearing her housecoat. A lantern gives low light inside the room. It's raining outside.
Southeast Asia. Modern day. Afternoon rain forces us into the coolness of the little house, surrounded by rice paddies, where Grandmother assembles strings of Christmas lights; bound for somewhere. Young mother watches three children grow, and wonders: What will their lives be? Can’t dream of what she’s never seen; can’t see what she can’t dream.
Every house on suburban street photographed identically
They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.
They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.
It is better to dwell in the corner of the housetop, than with a brawling woman and in a wide house.
They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.
At his Grandmother's house in Penang, while the tropical rain taps softly against the window, Wing Sun, Mother and Grandmother gather in the cozy living room. The room glows with the soft light of an oil lamp, and the walls are adorned with faded photographs and delicate calligraphy. Grandmother’s eyes sparkle as she begins to speak—a voice that carries both the wisdom of her years and the tender care of someone who’s seen many seasons change. Wing Sun is pensive with anticipation. What will she say?
The monster (Mt. San Gorgonio) rises in the North, all hoary-frost above behemoth shoulders. Snake-like clouds adorning her, I crane my neck, Gaze fixed past the big white house toward uplifted boulders. And at the South, like his namesake martyr, Hyacinth (Mt. San Jacinto) has lost his head in cloud. Burned bones against a blue backdrop he wears that legacy proud. Between the two, another sunrise gleams and beams of brilliant, white-hot day flash forth: Accentuate Sonora’s west extremes, and last night’s moon forgot to go away.
At his Grandmother's house in Penang, Wing Sun is lying down on a futon in his bedroom, covered up with a beautiful lightweight quilt Grandma made. Outside his room the rain is coming down. In Penang, every corner of the old town—every whisper of the wind through ancient trees—seems to echo with promises of renewal and love. And as the rain softens outside, Wing-Sun closes his eyes with the comforting knowledge that every detour, every farewell, is simply a step toward a new beginning. A lantern gives soft light to the room, and all is quiet.
a tree in nature
still life arrangement of fruits and flowers
bicyle resting against a wall
urban street with city activity
a man with a beard and a sun in the background
serene landscape with mountains and water