Last weekend, I went back to Quezon. It was bittersweet visiting the sites of something that was quite significant during my beginnings as a photographer.

To give some context, I went to Quezon Province almost the same time as last year (only a week earlier) with a different set of people. I met so many new personalities on that trip that I had admired and studied along with the ones that have been an influence in my development as an artist.

It was also on that trip where I delved deeper into producing soulful art, and not just images or pictures. I recall the travel was rough; we looked for places to sleep, chancing on vacancies, and eventually finding one. Mornings were rough because as most of you know, being a landscape photographer is quite difficult. Chasing sunrises and sunsets are paramount.

I also recall a very particular place—the old port, where I felt I made a very beautiful image (at the time), but at a price: I fell into the water because I slipped. As a result, I busted my left shin, bruised and bleeding before I can even start climbing the platform. Even with the injury and the heat, I continued on and produced this image:

This year, however, was quite different. I was more experienced and much more sure about what I want to produce. I was also completing some series of works, so coming back to old spots was somewhat, nostalgic.

Led by Francis Ansing (@francisansingphotography), who also led my previous expedition to the north, I was mong new characters I’ve met for the first time, along with familiar faces like Mark Marbella (@iammarbel), who was with me in my previous Quezon trip, Dennis Murillo (@thedennismurillo), Deric Kho (@deric.kho), Caloy Llamas (@caloyllamasii), Jay Fernandez, and everyone's favorite boss, Michael Villanueva (that's not his real name).

The journey was quite long, but enjoyable. I learned about everyone’s views, styles, and how they are as individuals. More than the people I met, I wanted to pay respects to the history I left the old Malunat Port in Mulanay. Of course, everyone would be taking photos of almost the same thing, so I surveyed the area and took photos from a distance until the platform was clear, and everyone had left. I went back and climbed the platform, took a deep breath, and just savored the moment as if I was standing beside my ghost, taking photos side by side. It was, as I expected, cathartic to say the least. I felt like I have given honor to my own history at that port and paid respects to the individual I once was.

If you're a racing game enthusiast, you'll know what "ghosts" are. Of course, my journey isn't a race, but these are definitely my ghosts from last year's race track.

(It's like saying you're heading to the best version of yourself yada yada, you know the whole dramatic dialogue.)

Thanks for reading.