Creativity starved, I brought out my camera, cranked the ISO to accommodate the dark and dreary morning, and pointed it at things. Goo was staring out the window when she noticed what I was doing and I snapped this before she had a chance to react. It’s hard to get candids of her these days, as she has grown to see my camera as just another one of my limbs and can’t resist making goofy faces. It’s possible she put one on at the last minute before I took this photo, but the shadows will never lift to reveal it. I kept the shutter speed high, despite the darkness of the room. I wanted to draw the light in from the outside and let it paint the rest of our surroundings.
Little tiny patches of light here and there, like the curve of yin dark enough to show a sprinkle of stars.
This picture isn’t usually one that would make it to the saved folder. In fact, I’m almost positive I had expected to throw it out as soon as I saw it on the camera’s display. But I couldn’t bring myself to let it go. I could write and write and write and I could never express how it feels to be cooped up during a winter without snow. But this image has managed to draw it all into a neatly woven knot of pixels.
The days are darker, light barely touching the rest of the world. Sometimes the light barely touches my heart, and draws itself only to certain places, giving me only glimpses of what really lies before me.
Winter is like that. Quiet. Mute. Shadowed. Dormant.
But it’s important to remember that without these dark places, the light wouldn’t be able to draw our attention elsewhere.
Until next time. Namaste.
Image © Lina Forrester