I used to make up stories in my head every time I see portraits. Pictures to me have great stories. It has been dubbed to paint a thousand words. Even moving photographs have their own story going on before it started and after it ended. A photograph is a glance, that blink of an eye that’s captured. A moving photograph is a moment captured. Words spoken before, during and after was never caught, and it’s a secret between the photographer and the subject. A secret that is kept even if it’s not written. Unwritten rules are the most followed. We tend to defy what seems so final. We tend to question straight answers hoping there’s more to it.
When you’re sad and decide to take a long walk, the sky knows. Then it whispers, is it going to be you or me today? Either you or the sky cries, but it always knows that when it starts to cry, you’d cry with it. But then it’s a secret between the two of you. The sky knows its tears and you know yours. Many things you’d want to shout out at the top of your lungs in an open ocean, hoping it’ll be written in the sand, as it’s just wiped away by the waves when the tides change.
I keep on hearing, when it rains it pours but it can’t rain forever. When exactly is the day after forever? I stopped believing in that word a long time ago. The more challenges you overcome the stronger the winds that come back. The bigger the dragons you slay, the greater are the next. It’s a struggle to climb up but when you’ve reached the top, there’s nowhere else to go but down. Well, isn’t it just great? Nothing but useless nonsense.
– Juliet – 8132012 – 0227