Sometimes you want to take a picture, capture how the morning light looks filtering through the trees; your cooled skin; the sound of birds.
But you can never smell the air in that photo. You can't look around to see the rest of the world from that spot you stood, capturing a split second of light.
The only way to remember it is to sit for a while; feel it as deeply as you can; accept that it'll never be as good as it is right now.
Yes, it was the light that drew me in. So it was looking that made me notice the family, the only ones there. At first I was looking at how they were scattered but near each other. So far, a photograph of sorts.
And then because I was watching I found myself thinking about them, who they were, how they made sense to me. While I was watching them, they were thinking and doing.
This shift from image to narrative, is it always there?
@katebowles I think for a certain number of us, it is. An image alone doesn't capture much meaning, but consciousness added on top creates the depth we're all perpetually experiencing together. Narrative is eternally useful for sharing that, no matter the time or technology.
I walked in yesterday after a long day at work. The quality of light in my daughter’s room was so peaceful. But nothing captured it. None of these images (iPhone with dusty lens) fully condense the way that it felt standing in her empty room, looking out of the window.
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