Here, written or posted in this blog post is the concrete example of the fault in photography.

 We take pictures for people to see, for them to give life to them, for us to impart to them the life and body of the depth of a moment in time. We are trying to capture something that cannot be held, something that is both still and flowing.

That is why, there never really is a true picture, no one can really see something, the way another can. 

 These pictures are the pictures of my grandmother's house. These pictures will not ever do justice to the memories that were created within the 4 walls of this structure. I wish I could've captured those moments as they were happening, but this, I hope, is the next best thing. 

 This house is such a beautiful house. 


A portrait of my lola.

This is where we used to watch TV. There was a huuuge carpet the before, and we used to lay down pillows and watch T.V


Part of my lola's sala


I remember when I was a small kid, I always played with these. I loved their color. 


I like sitting here. 


The first thing you see when you enter my lola's house. 


My lola's sala. 


The adult's table. 


My cousins and siblings playing mahjong.


I like this chandelier. 


A photo of a mother and child sculpture my lola has. 


The big blue mirror with all the family portraits. 


Sunflower plates. 


The back of the house. 


This is the path Santa takes when he comes every christmas to give out presents. 


The garden. 




My grandmother is amazing. She has a heart so big, that she was able to fit such a huge family in it. I love you, Mommy Cel. 

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