Sometimes I don’t want to write, I just want to photo, to photograph.
I want to photo for photos sake. I want to photo for images. I want to take and make images for image sake. For art. For more than just a mere swipe or a second standstill.
Sometimes I don’t want to follow the little rules and regulations I have set for my own self in regards to what I do and how I do it. I just want to do it, I just want it done.
But it is these little rules that I have made, that I do occasionally break, that I feel help to create some kind of continuity of my content. I don’t know if anyone else sees it that way, but I know I do.
It’s not always about straight out face-value content; it is at times about what the content is, how it is presented, why it is presented, and all the hidden meanings and messages that can be found when one decides to delve deeper.
I’m an interviewer of the world, of my world, of the mass – curious to the core and wanting to know more. Because of this it is at times hard to pin point what to write or where to even start.
I wasn’t going to write anything for this. For once I was just going to post a post – a title, a location, a hashtag recognition / reference point, and a simple sentence. Instead, the words and the writing still managed to flow from the fingers into form.
It’s not always about the writing, nor is it always about the image…
Sometimes I don’t want to write, I just want to photo, to photograph.
Life is a combination of thoughts, feelings, senses, experiences and interpretations of our environment which we encounter whilst our hearts our beating in this body like collection of atoms.
Reality is the way we choose to interpret these apparent truths and the way they effect and affect our environment. What we think we know to be true, or simply, which we choose to be true.
Reality, is what we allow it to be, what you choose to be real.
It is then in that moment of time, when dreams meet reality, that you know that you are doing things right, living life the way you should be, living the life you want.
You almost have to pinch yourself, to check that you are awake, that this is really happening. But even if you did, it would not matter, for it would not wake you up and stop you from dreaming.
You are awake, you are alive. You are, infact, living amidst what you have made. Your reality is a dream.
If you experience nightmares, work on changing it. Otherwise, enjoy.
** It can be a fine line between the two, and they can, and do, co-exist. ** Remember, reality is not set in stone. It is our interpretation of the surroundings in which that stone exists. How do you interpret your reality?
Every now and then it’s good to stop what you are doing and just sit down, stay still, and take in your surroundings.
I never did tell you about Mary, one of the many strangers I met whilst exploring Paris.
It was the most stunningly beautiful day and I found myself strolling along the Seine, merrily photographing as I went. Here I had stopped to sit in the sun, cherishing the moment.
As I walked past a lady in a wheelchair who was busy scribbling on a notepad I made a comment to her about the lovely day in my most favourite of phrases: C’est Magnifique! She agreed and asked “Anglais?” “Oui”. I had been on a mission to find the most glorious and memorable rose flavoured macaroon by Pierre Hermes, but instead I just sat in the sun by the Seine with Mary and chatted all afternoon.
We spoke about all sorts; travel, writing, life, philosophy, Paris, Australia, health, tales and more. She was so interesting and we just seemed to click. She had told me she used to work for the New York Times but was dropped after an extended stay in hospital, but that our mission was to get me published before I left Paris.
Hours went by and as the sun slipped behind Musée d’Orsay it was time to move on. I helped pushed her in her broken wheelchair along the pavement, on a bus, over a bridge, down tight streets, across busy intersections, all the way towards her area / near my macaroon store. I told her I would like to buy her one of the macaroons if the shop was still open.
I do not know if all her stories were true, but it didn’t matter. Mary made my day, and that rose flavoured macaroon – the entire afternoon for that matter – made her week, her month.
Four days later, life changed.
Three days ago, I had my first article published! 🙂
Today, I was looking on Insta at photos of places I visited with strangers in Paris, delighted to see that the flowers I’d been told about were blooming.
“After all, seasons change. So do cities. People come into your life and people go…” – SATC
** From time to time just stop-breathe-enjoy the life in front of you, and smell (or taste) the roses. It can make your day, and others too. 🙂
Four days ago was three months.
Three days ago I sent an email.
Two days ago I missed a call; asleep.
Yesterday I missed a call; out walking the dog.
Last night the Eagles of Death Metal bravely got up and performed in Paris again.
Today I was up so could confirm my first therapy appointment for two days time.
Shit happens, and we have to deal with it. There is such a huge attitude of platitude(s) these days, which can make one feel like it should take very little time or effort to improve. No. It doesn’t work like that. Some things maybe, but not all.
I understand this may be a long journey, I will know more on Friday. But right now, I am content. Days are good and I am no longer living in close to constant fear. I am grateful.
I have changed though. My inner drive is no longer near, I cling to things and almost all I used to do I have halted. Not on purpose, it has just happened that way. I’m barely photographing, I’m barely writing, reading or even feeling. Thinking and doing yes, but for different reasons. I do things when I feel like it, no stress, no shoulda-coulda-woulda.
I needed to stop and rest, and I have done and am doing exactly that. I have a little daily routine which has helped my sleep, my movements, and my mind. I do not pressure myself to do anything in particular, but rather wait and see what the day brings, for I barely know what day or date it is anyway. It may not sound like much, but my days pass, I have a certain sense of purpose, and things are getting better.
** Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, Paris will always have a dear little place in my heart. It was a hole, but now it’s healing, and the thought of going home is bringing back my feeling. It can be hard though, for the closer I get to happiness, the closer I am to where I was when life went from peak, peak happiness to the polar opposite – and that can at times make me wary. Still, I’m beginning to get excited for home; for family, for friends, for fun.
** The fact I didn’t realise until the 14th that the 13th had passed, or what the 13th indeed means and meant, shows things may be beginning to move on, to mend. So for that I can smile.