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Literature Text
Why I take photos
My mother used to say to me, "Every time you take a photo, make sure there's a person in it, so you can remember."
At the time I thought it was just one of many sayings that she would repeat to me ad infinitum, repeating over and over like a mantra until they lost all meaning.
Years later, as a young man, her words came back to me and I realized how wise they truly were. I lost a very close friend suddenly and after the initial shock and mourning, I discovered that I couldn't find any photos of him. There was literally no record of the time we spent together, the nights that we stayed awake talking, the idealistic veneer of youth ripped away by harsh winds.
He was gone and he was not coming back. Soon enough his face started to fade from my memory and his voice could no longer be recalled.
There are photos littered down the pathway of my childhood. My first bath, learning to walk and playing with the chickens in my backyard, photos of a young boy, face bright, eyes twinkling, dressed up in Sunday best ready to take a tentative step towards a brighter future.
But where is the ghost of my friend now, with no memory to tie him to the earth? Did he float away and get stuck in the atmosphere or is he still here, wandering unnamed and unfaced in a strange land?
It's been said that a man is the sum of what he is remembered for, and though I believe that this is only partly true, I am also aware that every moment, every single moment of this life is special and every moment is worth remembering. This is why I take photos.
My mother used to say to me, "Every time you take a photo, make sure there's a person in it, so you can remember."
At the time I thought it was just one of many sayings that she would repeat to me ad infinitum, repeating over and over like a mantra until they lost all meaning.
Years later, as a young man, her words came back to me and I realized how wise they truly were. I lost a very close friend suddenly and after the initial shock and mourning, I discovered that I couldn't find any photos of him. There was literally no record of the time we spent together, the nights that we stayed awake talking, the idealistic veneer of youth ripped away by harsh winds.
He was gone and he was not coming back. Soon enough his face started to fade from my memory and his voice could no longer be recalled.
There are photos littered down the pathway of my childhood. My first bath, learning to walk and playing with the chickens in my backyard, photos of a young boy, face bright, eyes twinkling, dressed up in Sunday best ready to take a tentative step towards a brighter future.
But where is the ghost of my friend now, with no memory to tie him to the earth? Did he float away and get stuck in the atmosphere or is he still here, wandering unnamed and unfaced in a strange land?
It's been said that a man is the sum of what he is remembered for, and though I believe that this is only partly true, I am also aware that every moment, every single moment of this life is special and every moment is worth remembering. This is why I take photos.
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Literature
Dreams
At first, I had many dreams:
Of flying, of shining,
Of smiling and laughing.
I wanted to bring peace;
I wanted to bring love;
And make my voice heard.
But nobody listened,
Nobody cared.
Everyone laughed,
Threw me aside,
And buried any memory of me.
Now, I just want to be happy.
Literature
what lies beneath
We're the types to fall asleep
Listening to Fall Out Boy
While the sun starts to peek
After another night of over-thinking
She's the type to never wear make-up
Because (in her opinion) the world
Needs to learn to look at natural beauty
And see it in everyone like she does
He's the type to carry his pride silently
But is learning how to show it to others
And shed his little rainbow shell
Step by step, one day at a time
She's the type to scream out
When it all becomes too much
It gives some people the wrong impression
But the ones she can truly count on always stay
He's the type to quietly observe
And try not to let things get
Literature
Translucent
Curves
I know you want laced ribs,
rosemary hips,
elegant femininity
Hourglass outlines.
I know you're afraid
to look down, so look up.
My fingers are still holding on.
I will sell my words
if I have to make it happen
and when it does
we'll find you pretty clothes.
You are my woman
and I can see you.
I love you and I'm terrified.
I'm trembling.
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I've been thinking for a while that I need to start blogging more opinion/nonfiction stuff because I have opinions. I'm gonna try to do it more often.
(c) myself
(c) myself
© 2014 - 2024 SabbathLiterature
Comments2
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You should. I really like listening to your thoughts, and I mean, isn't you D.A tag "Meet my thoughts"? Hehe, I'm sure the rest of your watchers agree, though.
I've...never been good with photos myself. As a child, I was always fearful of the camera, because I felt I was not worth remembering. Ah, I was not a confident child. Now I'm here, finding myself with fading memories and I hate that I never sat down and took photos. No, not class shots or portraits, but real photos. I'm currently in the presence of a lovely boy who is obsessive about them, and honestly, I think it was made to happen. A lot is happening right now, and here I am, letting it pass by me while this paparazzi-like creature is doing it for me. Him and a group of friends I used to hang out with often went out to eat before I first ventured across the U.S to see a big city in California, and it was a big night. I barely bothered to lift even my phone, but he took a picture just as I was in the middle of a mozzarella stick, and I only half caught him doing it. So I was quizzically looking at the camera, with a half smile, the other occupied with my food. He was so proud, because it felt so "real" as he put it. Some of those friends came and went, and much has changed(Including my hair) but whenever I see that picture, I am back to that night in a heartbeat. Swelling with excitement over this new venture, and with sorrow over leaving many behind. That picture perfectly captured the night, and I can't say it wasn't worth remembering.
As always, I just left you a story on your story, but I digress. Pictures are beautiful things. I hope to get better myself with taking them. I don't think I'll ever be a photographer like you or him, though
I like that I ended up remembering that whole experience after reading that, all the same. I feel warm and nostalgic now.
I've...never been good with photos myself. As a child, I was always fearful of the camera, because I felt I was not worth remembering. Ah, I was not a confident child. Now I'm here, finding myself with fading memories and I hate that I never sat down and took photos. No, not class shots or portraits, but real photos. I'm currently in the presence of a lovely boy who is obsessive about them, and honestly, I think it was made to happen. A lot is happening right now, and here I am, letting it pass by me while this paparazzi-like creature is doing it for me. Him and a group of friends I used to hang out with often went out to eat before I first ventured across the U.S to see a big city in California, and it was a big night. I barely bothered to lift even my phone, but he took a picture just as I was in the middle of a mozzarella stick, and I only half caught him doing it. So I was quizzically looking at the camera, with a half smile, the other occupied with my food. He was so proud, because it felt so "real" as he put it. Some of those friends came and went, and much has changed(Including my hair) but whenever I see that picture, I am back to that night in a heartbeat. Swelling with excitement over this new venture, and with sorrow over leaving many behind. That picture perfectly captured the night, and I can't say it wasn't worth remembering.
As always, I just left you a story on your story, but I digress. Pictures are beautiful things. I hope to get better myself with taking them. I don't think I'll ever be a photographer like you or him, though
I like that I ended up remembering that whole experience after reading that, all the same. I feel warm and nostalgic now.