She is the cutest little thing and she has the most charming expressions, especially her smiles. She calls me “a yi mama,” Which means “my auntie mommy.” Sometimes she runs away from her mommy for her “auntie mommy.” I am so flattered. And, yes, her feet! She loves wearing shoes several times her size.
Still trying to get used to life at home. The heat is unbearable and my body is not doing a good job to adjust itself to home. I am waiting for my body to get used to the “new” environment so I can go out to shoot my thesis. These are just snapshots. 
Dad is sick. His left arm suffers from herpes zoster. It’s been three months. I feel his pain. It is simply unbearable. He could hardly sleep. I wish I could take it away, even into my own arm. I wish I could. I would, if I could.
When we get old, our hearing starts to fade, we may need an hearing aid. Yet we women don’t want to give up our earrings. And our hair get grayer and grayer and less and less, yet we women don’t give up…I especially love those elderly people who work hard to look decent. Now I am thinking of piercing my ears so I can wear my earrings…
I met them on the Royal Mile of Edinburgh. I guess they are the heaviest men I’ve met. Ten times my weight! I mean each of them. They look pretty good with that weigh, don’t they? I wish I could weigh more so I am strong enough to carry all my gears and the gears I hope to possess. But I also want to keep a good shape with a very heavy weight. Do you?
I just realized that I had taken quite some pictures of feet. Well, FEET, I guess this could be my next project.
I was hoping to find a story in the Isle of Lewis (Scotland) the last weekend of July. There are still tweed weavers there. And it is a remote area with a long history. It was a risk, though. Fourteen hours journey by trains and buses and ferry from Edinburgh to Inverness, Ullapool, Stornaway, then the Black House village, which is at the northern part of the western isles. One way, which means another 14 hours to get back to Edinburgh. A big risk to lose a whole weekend without finding a story, or even one single good picture. I hesitated, but took the risk any way. And the result is that I spent two days of the weekend on the road to and from Isle of Lewis, one day in Lewis as a tourist rather than a photographer. Sothe pictures are a tourist’s snapshots. My adviser, who often says to his student “Take only the good pictures and leave the rest for the tourists” must have been disappointed.
