A cluster of stone in the midst of a vast, endless sea of color caught my eye as I looked at the many pictures on my bedroom wall. This one was new, I remembered seeing it in a store one day. The many clumps of of emerald blended into the splotchy, paint splattered walls of the paint shop. As the emerald ended, a dark indigo-but-closer-to-violet color met the emerald sea. Large, bluish hills made the horizon with a endless blue sky.
But, as i look closer, it is then I realize the many colors and the unique beauty of it. The sea of emerald wasn't only emerald. IT was mixed with tan, red, yellow, and brown. I couldn't figure out why I really wanted it so bad. There was something about it that told me it was one of it's kind, although there were many just like it.
And then it clicked. It called to me because it symbolized perfection, although nothing about it was perfect. In the picture I could see a bunch of broken-down buildings. I loved it! With a jolt of shock, I understood that my love for the picture was what made it so special. I smiled as my realization made sense. I picked up the photograph and carried it over to the counter and paid for it. Then, I remember taking it home and inning it up to my wall.
Now, here I am, lost again in the beauty of one photograph. The photograph that made me smile, made me who I am today. A photographer.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment