the expanse of the river tay calms me, serene. a man’s melodious whistle is a wistful dream. a wisp of a cloud curves a smile and a frown - i observe its natural course of ebb and flow; i see the same mirrored in the water below. a shimmering sea and sky meet in harmonious blue, and i watch the two lovers embrace.i stare out to water and ask for grace. i always come to nature when my heart is i...

The soul which once used to pour love ,Now is all alone ,Sitting behind those bars,In search of love,Which her heart used to ponder so far..Those hands which used to cook,Those hands which even fed the little ones...Now, 'crave' for  handful of food in front of their own young ones..Throat which was famous for  its melodious lullaby,Is now lost in a 'desert of thirst'...Quest of Love in that he...

eros had his heart shaped arrow aimed at you, mum. the bowstring trembled with the strain of his anticipation, waiting for the pink, newborn mess of me to draw her first breath. he shot home, and when i opened my eyes to a world id never seen i saw you, and that was it. my first love. my last love. all my loves in-between.

Bad Honey approached me with the sweetest self-produced song so I wanted to carry on the intimate DIY spirit and capture a wholesome day at home with our friends Rina & Zora.It blows my mind how "kids these days" are gonna have pretty much every single day of their lives documented so shooting with my regular DoP Henry Gill on Super 16mm film felt like it would stand the test of time among...

Our mothers literally build our hearts. From a conglomeration of cells to a beating, breakable organ. Building a heart is no violent act.  My mother built my heart from the safety of her womb. But leave the womb and a mother becomes more. More than a mother, she is a person.  As a person, she carries her own beating heart which has suffered the wear of trauma. Our mothers build our hearts, but ...

Missing Piece Project: https://www.cymiey.com/personal-projects/missingpieceMissing Piece is a project I made to show the similarities between my mother and me. Throughout my lifetime, many friends and families had told me how similar my mother and I look. At the age of 7, I lost my mom to cancer, and so growing up I always questioned her.  I recreated images of my mother to see the difference...

The lady of the Sea, I have often searched the shores for her, Moonstones dangling from her ears, Pearls around her neck, Her blue and grey robe made from the colours of the waves,She is there, I know it, Only now though I realise, She won’t walk along the beach to find me, I must find her, Where my body meets her voluptuous curves, Where her rhythm moves me to the steps of her watery dance,Whe...

I return to the oceanTo wash away my sinsA moment to reflect And find calm from withinMy soul is in chaos My mind is playing gamesWhere I am the loserAnd life is mocking my nameThese lies I believe I hold on to them wellNot because I want toBut I also do can’t you tell?It’s hard to sit stillI feel the depths of sadness upwellA familiar feeling of drowningI know all to wellLet go, let goIs what ...

I am grateful to my mother for teaching me magic. She showed me how to pluck the hidden meanings in the words people spoke.The chants they tried to weave, the blessings to search for, the curses that threatened to choke. She traced the hillside of my nose and made me trace hers, too.“We share the same valleys and mounds,” she said. “It is a privilege for others to view.”She taught me the rollin...

Fine lines wrinkle the face I once caressed with tiny hands While being cradled in the security of her armsThe auburn hair I ran my fingers through in the darkness of her bedroomTo chase away the nightmares of her dyingIs now the color of sunshine and honeyHer once soft exterior has been replaced by a hardened exoskeletonA suit of armor pristinely polished by every hardship she has sufferedShe ...