I came home late today. Later than usual. I met a friend from college and I was asked for an evening. We worked in the same block, surprise, my friend squandered all the time working behind our building. I didn’t know my friend was close by. A happy feeling!
Going home was a bit hard. There was traffic everywhere. Roads had been destroyed and re-widened. I called for a motorcycle. My body was heavy…heavy were my legs. But before I hopped on, I gave my friend a warm hug, but it felt like I was the one who needed it more.
The motorcycle was the scooter type. A rose-colored toy was driven by a random guy. “To this address, please,” I said. I had drunken tears. While on the road, I thought my tears were precious, I looked away so, it wouldn’t fall. The city life, nightlife was vigorously rough. Distantly looking away with tears about to drop.
And now you ask me about photographs and yesterday, the moon… Oh, that was rough. They transformed me, once again to be the sentimental, emotional snotty girl I was. “Sweetheart, tissue please.”
When I looked away all the buildings turned into frames of unrecognizable images. With my eyes blocked with warm liquid and my hair tossed by the nightly wind, they were rapidly changing frames one after the other. It was rough. My head hurts.
Sweetheart, perhaps I did not know anything about photography. Hues, shades, contrast, time conceived-perceived were dictionary terms for me. The pictures in my life were not taken by me. My face on paper or on the profile was not captured by my hands. Everything surreal to me. That’s why
I want to imagine to re-capture the desire and the unstated evidence of life and shadows within those clicks with words. Perhaps at the touch of a camera, my hands, oh they are such a nervous wreck. My tears and the camera would have dropped significantly in unison and break them into pieces. Perhaps, to you, sweetheart that would have been a deadly sight.
But I have always had this urge. That one day, I may get to capture my first image. That the day will come that I might see the image with the kind of lens that only you have. And my hands would cease to shake and just move swiftly like that of a Pro.
Perhaps. Or I might as well just be nurturing this absurdity. Who knew.
The wintry moon, the spring flowers, the summer seas, and the autumn sky, sweetheart, what do you think? May I?