What Makes Oma Countryside Famous For Landscape Photography?

On Valentine's Day, as my girlfriend, Christy Lawrence, and I stroll along a tourist hot spot, a photographer asks me, "Care to take a photo? Oh, you brought someone new again!" I brush it off as a joke, but Christy stops the photographer and says seriously, "He told me I'm his first girlfriend. How can you make up a lie like that?" The photographer snorts. "This young man here brings a different young woman with him to take a photo here every six months. I still have the photos to prove it!" He brings out his phone and shows us a photo of a couple—the man looks exactly like me. All of the surrounding tourists start eyeing me scornfully. I take my phone out and make a call. "Hello, I suspect that someone has stolen my identity. Could you please send a police officer over?"

I'm a private photographer. Many female college students come to me to get their portraits shot. In return, they choose to offer me their supple bodies. One day, I receive an order to take wedding photos of a couple. However, that night, the bride insists on having me sleep with her… Could it be that her husband can't even afford to pay me for my services?

Onerea is a place that you can find only in dreams. In that place, you can exchange your dream energy for things like food and accommodation. You can also enter the Mirrors, places in the outskirts of the city, where there are portal doors that will let you enter a dream within that Dreamworld. In a place like that, Annabelle Archer, a 25-year-old woman who, in real life, has serious heart disease, meets Dominik, who will be her guide through the mirrors, and maybe something else, but what could happen with a person that lives in a floating city within a dream?

I canceled my ticket to Iceland. Even the customer service agent sounded confused. “There are only two seats left on this flight. Are you sure you want to cancel?” “Yes,” I said. “I’m sure.” We had been together for four years. Every February, he flew to Iceland. He always said it was for a photography project. On social media, he only posted glaciers and the northern lights. Whenever I said I wanted to see the aurora too, he would tell me, “It’s too cold there. You wouldn’t be able to handle it.” Then yesterday, I helped him organize an old hard drive. Inside was an encrypted folder named **February**. When I opened it, every photo was of the same girl standing beneath the same northern lights. The light was soft around her. Even the strands of her hair glowed clearly in the frame. The only photo he had ever taken of me was outside our apartment complex. Backlit. Out of focus. My eyes were squinting, and my entire face was blurred. At the time, he had even laughed and said, “As long as you can tell it’s you, it’s fine.” So it wasn’t that he didn’t know how to take good photos. He just never wanted to take them of me. For four years, he chased the northern lights. And every time, the same person stood beside him. The farthest light I had ever seen was nothing more than an Iceland photo he had posted carelessly online. While I was packing my things, he called me. His voice was rushed. “Weren’t you the one who kept saying you wanted to see the northern lights? Why did you cancel the ticket?” I hung up without answering. Iceland was too far. The aurora was too cold. Since he was never willing to come toward me, I would walk toward the light on my own.

Among the world's female models, Julian Vance once again ranked first as the photographer they most wanted to spend a night with. And yet he had never taken a single photograph of me. When reporters asked about it, he could never hide the fondness in his eyes. "My wife is for my eyes only. No one else gets that privilege." On my birthday, I happily changed into a lace nightdress and, for the first time, asked him to record me with his camera. Several minutes passed. The shutter never sounded. Behind the camera, Julian's expression had gone stiff. "Forget it," he said. My joy collapsed into confusion. "What's wrong?" "It's just..." He laughed dryly. "Photography is work. I don't want to mix you up with work." Then he put the camera back, turned around, and went into the bathroom. The door to the darkroom where he developed his photos was half open, red light spilling through the crack. I walked inside and saw an album on the worktable titled Vivian Blair's Private Diary. I opened it. Inside were photos in every degree of intimacy and every kind of pose.

Growing up as a beautiful, smart, and obedient daughter, Auva Fermentera is like the perfect child that all parents desire to have. With all the money that her family has, it seems like there is nothing they can’t afford to have. But soon later, Auva realizes that it is not true when her family opposes her dream to pursue painting. Obeying them at first, Auva learns to stand up for herself when she was blamed of her engagement being cancelled as her fiancé runs away. A very cliche move. Only to find out that he is hiding in the same place she decided to start her new life. A place which will be like their canvas while they paint each other’s life. With every stroke of their paint, a bunch of colorful memories come together. But it only takes one event that made their paint brush break which stains their built memories. Will they try to fix it? Or will they let it be as it is?