– Neil Young
Photostory by Mushamir Mustafa
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(This post was first published on October 11th 2013)
“I think he’s very handsome”, says Renee, the fellow photographer who took this shot! Thank you for coming along for a photo trip with HOKL.
Photostory by Mushamir Mustafa
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(This post was first published on July 8th 2013)
But despite his traumatic experience….he still does not fear riding the bike. Tells everyone who rides, to ride safe.
Photostory by Mushamir Mustafa
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(This post was first published on July 8th 2013)
Easy to find him, he’s the shiniest man in the centre of Bukit Bintang.
Photostory by Mushamir Mustafa
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(This post was first published on July 8th 2013)
That is how I described them – one being a strict, disciplined person that goes with his job as a policeman, and his friend with the more casual, relaxed, and carefree attitude.
Photostory by Mushamir Mustafa
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(This post was first published on July 8th 2013)
Proud of wearing the sarong in the train!
Photostory by Mushamir Mustafa
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(This post was first published on May 21th 2013)
On a rainy day in the centre of KL, “umbrella, 1 for RM 10, 3 for RM 20!”.
Photostory by Mushamir Mustafa
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(This post was first published on May 12th 2013)
This is the young one’s first time wearing the sarong.
Photostory by Mushamir Mustafa
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(This post was first published on May 12th 2013)
The woman was old and ragged and gray,
And bent with the chill of a winter’s day;
The streets were white with a recent snow,
And the woman’s feet with age were slow.
At the crowded crossing she waited long,
Jostled aside by the careless throng
Of human beings who passed her by.
Unheeding the glance of her anxious eye.
Down the street with laughter and shout.
Glad in the freedom of “school let out,”
Come happy boys, like a flock of sheep,
Hailing the snow piled white and deep;
Past the woman, so old and gray.
Hastened the children on their way.
None offered a helping hand to her,
So weak and timid, afraid to stir,
Lest the carriage wheels or the horses’ feet
Should trample her down in the slippery street.
At last came out of the merry troop
The gayest boy of all the group;
He paused beside her and whispered low,
“I’ll help you across, if you wish to go.”
Her aged hand on his strong young arm
She placed, and so without hurt or harm
He guided the trembling feet along,
Proud that his own were young and strong;
Then back again to his friends he went,
His young heart happy and well content
“She’s somebody’s mother, boys, you know,
For all she’s aged, and poor and slow;
And some one, some time, may lend a hand
To help my mother—you understand?—
If ever she’s old and poor and gray,
And her own dear boy so far away.”
“Somebody’s mother” bowed low her head
In her home that night, and the prayer she said
Was: “God be kind to that noble boy,
Who is somebody’s son and pride and joy.”
Photostory by Mushamir Mustafa
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(This post was first published on May 12th 2013)
Spotted riding the LRT.
Photostory by Mushamir Mustafa
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(This post was first published on May 12th 2013)
