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  • sereneyee
    S E R E N E Y E E
    @sereneyee

Images by sereneyee

Silence and solitude. Only those who truly care about you can hear you when you're quiet.

Learning to shut out the world took time. Only when I understood that I had a primal need for silence was I able to begin my search for it. Silence is about rediscovering, through pausing, the things that bring us joy. It draws upon achieving nearness to what we hope to learn, our relationship with nature, with those we love, the time we spend, the energy that we consume. Deep beneath a cacophony of noises and thoughts, visuals and vocals, modern technologies and modern ideologies, it lays in wait. Silence. Today, being able to mindfully create it for yourself is more important than ever.

Byzantine church of Saint George, Madaba, Jordan, 2010.
Silence and solitude. Only those who truly care about you can hear you when you're quiet. Learning to shut out the world took time. Only when I understood that I had a primal need for silence was I able to begin my search for it. Silence is about rediscovering, through pausing, the things that bring us joy. It draws upon achieving nearness to what we hope to learn, our relationship with nature, with those we love, the time we spend, the energy that we consume. Deep beneath a cacophony of noises and thoughts, visuals and vocals, modern technologies and modern ideologies, it lays in wait. Silence. Today, being able to mindfully create it for yourself is more important than ever. Byzantine church of Saint George, Madaba, Jordan, 2010.
Habituated to walk far and alone, and into the unknown.

Cardo Maximus, Jerash, Jordan, 2010.
Habituated to walk far and alone, and into the unknown. Cardo Maximus, Jerash, Jordan, 2010.
Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure. Rather aptly, stunning bokeh is pretty damn priceless.

Corinthium column, Jerash, Jordan, 2010.
Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure. Rather aptly, stunning bokeh is pretty damn priceless. Corinthium column, Jerash, Jordan, 2010.
Professional closeness tempered by emotional distance. How two people can be right next to each other, but miles apart.

Petra, Jordan, 2010.
Professional closeness tempered by emotional distance. How two people can be right next to each other, but miles apart. Petra, Jordan, 2010.
158km from Iraq. When you are constantly on the move, serendipity can easily be taken for granted and belittled. We were strangers who caught sight of each other in the middle of a vast unpunctuated desert, who stood divided by an interminable train track that ran from one side of the horizon to another, and whose intentions were to see the next train from Homs pass between us. That train never came. He stood vigilant and hopeful, while I left to continue my journey. Only smiles and nods exchanged, mutually understanding we would never see each other again. He was, to me, that forlorn stranger in the sand; I was, to him, that strange girl in the sand who stole a picture of him.

Hamad, Syria, 2010.
158km from Iraq. When you are constantly on the move, serendipity can easily be taken for granted and belittled. We were strangers who caught sight of each other in the middle of a vast unpunctuated desert, who stood divided by an interminable train track that ran from one side of the horizon to another, and whose intentions were to see the next train from Homs pass between us. That train never came. He stood vigilant and hopeful, while I left to continue my journey. Only smiles and nods exchanged, mutually understanding we would never see each other again. He was, to me, that forlorn stranger in the sand; I was, to him, that strange girl in the sand who stole a picture of him. Hamad, Syria, 2010.
A nomad I am, in love with distant and unchartered places.

Bedouin tent, Palmyra, Syria, 2010.
A nomad I am, in love with distant and unchartered places. Bedouin tent, Palmyra, Syria, 2010.
Journeys written in sand.

Petra, Jordan, 2010.
Journeys written in sand. Petra, Jordan, 2010.
Dweller of the threshold standing at the door, standing in darkness and waiting forever more.

Dana Village, Jordan, 2010.
Dweller of the threshold standing at the door, standing in darkness and waiting forever more. Dana Village, Jordan, 2010.
I am curious about the people we meet daily, but who we don't know. The extras. The passersby. The creepers. The neighbours and the baristas. I wonder about their lives; I wonder if anyone is feeling the same way I'm feeling at any particular moment. I ponder about their experiences that combine to form a kaleidoscope of narratives, a theatre of humanity in my mind.

Amman, Jordan, 2010.
I am curious about the people we meet daily, but who we don't know. The extras. The passersby. The creepers. The neighbours and the baristas. I wonder about their lives; I wonder if anyone is feeling the same way I'm feeling at any particular moment. I ponder about their experiences that combine to form a kaleidoscope of narratives, a theatre of humanity in my mind. Amman, Jordan, 2010.
The beauty of film photography is beyond the obvious aesthetics. A forgotten roll that yields enigmatic scenes - part blurred by chemistry, part blurred by fading memory - often becomes a surprise gift to self after years have elapsed.

Jerash, Jordan, 2010.
The beauty of film photography is beyond the obvious aesthetics. A forgotten roll that yields enigmatic scenes - part blurred by chemistry, part blurred by fading memory - often becomes a surprise gift to self after years have elapsed. Jerash, Jordan, 2010.
The last days of the year had arrived with the biting cold of winter being imminent. Every opportunity to bathe in sunshine was treasured, and every chance to marvel at the azure skies, taken. An empty theatre. 2nd century, Roman, black basalt, seats 15,000. A stranger pulled out a flute spontaneously from inside his bag, jumped onto stage and delivered a standing-ovation worthy piece. I clapped in appreciation and the applause amplified in echoes. He looked at me and bowed; I smiled. Dude sat behind him remained indifferent all this time, resolute in getting that one thing: warmth. That was the last tolerable winter before the Arab Spring proliferated.

Bosra, Syria, 2010.
The last days of the year had arrived with the biting cold of winter being imminent. Every opportunity to bathe in sunshine was treasured, and every chance to marvel at the azure skies, taken. An empty theatre. 2nd century, Roman, black basalt, seats 15,000. A stranger pulled out a flute spontaneously from inside his bag, jumped onto stage and delivered a standing-ovation worthy piece. I clapped in appreciation and the applause amplified in echoes. He looked at me and bowed; I smiled. Dude sat behind him remained indifferent all this time, resolute in getting that one thing: warmth. That was the last tolerable winter before the Arab Spring proliferated. Bosra, Syria, 2010.
Beautiful, bountiful and boundless. A constant fav of all film rolls ever shot and developed this lifetime.

Sunset, Wadi Rum, Jordan, 2010.
Beautiful, bountiful and boundless. A constant fav of all film rolls ever shot and developed this lifetime. Sunset, Wadi Rum, Jordan, 2010.