"signified typically with lack of energy and difficulty in maintaining concentration or interest in life"

part i
I stopped taking pictures around the same time that I started knowing what I wanted to do with my degree in school. I got more serious about things that would look good on a resume. I was never really that good at taking pictures; it was just something fun. Something interesting. Something that took my mind off of other things. An art.

Two years later, I find myself in a funny place. Funny place. Funny place. Funny place. If you say it over and over again, it sounds less like you should be laughing and more like the uncomfortable feeling it represents. There's no denying that many parts of the past two years have been purely charmed. But there have been other times when waves came up behind my back, and fell on my head cold and heavy, and left a mark deeper and darker than I could have expected. There have been days when I wondered if happiness was really possible. There have been moments--fleeting and frightening--when I wondered who would really notice if I was gone.

And I think we all have dark times. Everyone can think of at least one proverbial pit of despair that they fell into during their twenty-somethings. And I know that my life has purpose and value greater than what anyone could possibly tell me (or argue against).






part ii
I feel so old, in that young way, when I hold the camera. Not old in the same way grandparents feel. My body feels taut; I feel empty, or emptier, than I used to be. I can see things swimming in my periphery that I saw once before, so long ago... I was a different person then.

I was online and saw a picture of a window, a French looking window, complete with plate of pastries and fresh flowers and a very Haussmann building across the street. As usual, I thought, "What I'd give..." and then almost immediately, "Wait, I have roses right now!" And I knew I should take a picture to compare.

not mine

mine

Tonight I picked up my camera again and went into the kitchen, this time looking at my pumpkins and my pumpkin vine, and things that remind me of "home" which actually hasn't been "home" for five years and I'm starting to feel a little silly when I say "Oh yes, I'm from Dallas," when I'm actually not from Dallas at all.

part iii 

"When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence."

Ansel Adams

I mean, I'm still trying with words. But it's nice to find something useful in this black box of wires and glass.