It’s curious. I thought only a few weeks back that maybe my love and passion for my art was waning. I was afraid. Scared, that like everything else in my life, photography would fade from my eyes, my dreams.
But being back in school, and being forced to take photos again has truly rekindled my passion.
I touch my sore forearm. It’s the love story of the century. Of my life. It seems there’s not much more in the world that I love more than photography. And it loves me. We work together as perfect partners. I feel at home with my camera in my hands. And when my fingers work like a symphony, twisting, turning and adjusting to the moment at hand, I am home.
For that single moment, I am in complete control. And nothing else matters than that which inhabits the area in the small square viewfinder, my window into the world.