One Brick

I like to take close up photos.  I have been this way as long as I can remember.  I will take the obligation vista shot.  The wide shot of the horizon at sunrise.  Or I would if I ever decided to wake up that early. I love other people’s wide pictures, where it seems like you are looking out at the world through their eyes.  I even occasionally like my own distance photos.  You can’t capture the magnificence of the Great Wall by taking a picture of one brick.

But in general, I focus on the details.  I’ll put on my zoom lens and capture the texture of one leaf, one clump of dandelions, the area of your face from your cheek to your forehead.  I feel uncomfortable with my photos that show too much.  I think I am afraid that what I see will get lost.  That if I don’t focus on the detail that is captivating me, no one else will see it.  I want to explain to you, so you have no possibility of missing the point.  

I do this in my life, also.  I want to use my words to help everyone to see what I am seeing.  I am terrified of being misunderstood.  I can’t leave things to chance, hoping that you’ll catch the message.  I want to spell it out, even when it destroys the mystery and the beauty. I think this is also why I struggle to write. I’ve never mastered the skill great writers seem to have of leaving it up to the reader’s imagination.  Ambiguity is a partner with whom I’ve rarely danced.

And thats okay, sometimes.  Sometimes you need to see the details.  Some photos are all the more beautiful for being colourful, vibrant, and detailed.  You won’t notice texture from one hundred yards away. But too, you won’t capture the the magnificence of the Great Wall by taking a picture of one brick

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