The Old Bubz Is Back | Lately, a lot of you have been telling me “the old bubz is back”. As positive and excited as it was to hear, I didn’t quite understand so I asked you to expand. There were several reasons given from me dancing to playing piano to painting again. I realise all of your explanations echo one main point which is my energy is different. I’m more carefree again. I’m doing things for myself again. I’ve been blessed to walk different paths in life but the journey back to myself is definitely one of the most magnificent ones. This week, I have painted three paintings due to self isolation and I know what a privilege it is to fight boredom while many are fighting for their lives and not to mention our amazing frontline workers doing all they can to keep society upstanding for us. If you are given the gift of time, let it be a reminder to live in the moment. The past has already happened and nothing will ever bring it back. We all know the future is uncertain given the circumstances we are all in. Surrender control. This is the moment that truly exists. Don’t miss it. Swipe to see my acrylic paintings. You can probably already guess that I love painting nature, trees in particular. When I look at trees, I see life. The branches resemble bronchioles of the lungs and trees literally help us breathe by giving us oxygen. No wonder they say they are nature’s lungs. Trees lose their leaves in tough times but in season, they will always bloom again. May we be strong like a deep rooted tree. I believe we WILL bloom again and when we do, we will cherish life even more. #itsbubz #livinginthemoment #acrylicpainting #stayathome #oldbubzisback #art #cherish

🎈He coughed and coughed. Finally the obstruction surged up into his mouth like a slippery crimson salamander, its fingers searching for an opening through his lips. When he spit out the giant clot, a small miracle had occurred: the obstruction was fully intact, a perfect branch of glistening coral cast in the shape of his bronchioles. The blood had retained the memory of his lungs, starving him of air but becoming something beautiful in return. He could never have consciously sculpted something so lovely, precious, and rare. He choked on this thought, and wondered how he could get the bleeding to begin again.