sometimes I think too much.
Curiously looking at my camera, holding it at it as if it were a silly little box at show and tell, she asked me, “Do you look at things differently when you look through this?”
The simple yet deep nature of the question coupled with the hint of intrigue in the manner in which it was asked stuck with me for some reason.
I didn’t know the answer. I don’t know why I take the pictures I take. I danced around the question, explaining that there is a transcendental element I feel when taking photos. But I could not explain the metaphysical nature of why I take the photos I do. Perhaps because it is, in fact, unexplainable; something I could not explain, only something I could feel. Thus, the characteristics of it being definable only by being undefinable and being understood only through feeling, put in the same category of… “love.” Therefore, I believe, making it a passion, one of the most powerful intrinsic human motivators. If we are to say the love of something, anything, means it is one’s passion, is that to say then, that love inspires creativity? Or more so, “love inspires greatness?”
I digress.
