Sri Lanka, Writing

For Me

It’s too easy for me to forget why I love photography, it’s too easy too fall into a rut of comparison – where someone else always has a better picture.

Photography has always felt like a deep calm breath. It’s a way of not holding everything in your life together, letting it all go for a minute. You have your camera, your settings and you have control. The ability to look at something; through your eyes and save it. Or share it. Show it to strangers on the internet. Or just keep it for yourself as your desktop background.

I remember during exams, before getting back into the hell that is an incomprehensible journal article which I should have read a week ago; a half a minute of looking at my desktop background – at a picture I loved for myself, not anyone else – was enough. It would keep the panic away, and just help so much.

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My friend tossed this cluster of flowers onto a barrel of old oil at an abandoned railway station. She makes good choices in life.

I haven’t forgotten the feeling when I first took a focused picture on manual settings – a picture with decent light that wasn’t shaky. That feeling of pulling the prints out of the white kodak envelope, and realising that my settings were alright.

It felt great.

It still does (Minus the kodak envelope).

I just need to focus on that feeling and not the rest of them.

 

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Writing

One big step out of my comfort zone

I think the title says it all.

Posting my pictures on the internet is scary, and now I’m posting my writing. Excuse me while I go die of multiple fear-induced heart attacks.

The waiting game.

It comes uninvited, if not unexpected.
Moving from my stomach to my ribcage, it sits.
And waits – patient. Enduring.
No logic, or reason
No cajoling, good food, promises of hot tea
And nice people will make it go away.
I wait for it, expecting it on every street corner,
Hesitant to say yes, for what if it joins too?
I wait for it, tip toeing around the idea of a good month.
But even still,
It comes least expected.
In the middle of a week of calm and good it appeared.
Every
Morning
Till Eleven
As I lay in bed and gave in to it.
Until it decided that I had had enough
Until it decided that I should take a shower
Until it decided that breakfast, my lectures, my friends, my life
Were things that I should get back to, it waited.
And I waited.