100 Naked Words — Day 27
Self Portrait
Reflections, Ripples and Ramblings of a Restless Mind
He wandered the streets, searching constantly for inspiration, for some sign that he was special. It never came.
His finger trembled on the shutter, framing the moment as best he knew how. It fired and he quickly checked the image in the LCD noticing he hadn’t changed the settings from yesterday. Damn. He clumsily, and somewhat randomly, adjusted the aperture, masking the sensor from too much light. The photographers’ equivalent of a squint.
As with so much in his life, he acted on instinct. Learning enough to figure out the basics, then building on that through experience. Going deep enough, but never giving himself completely to anything. Anyone.
He moved on from his current vantage point, the chill that pervaded the bridge had started to bite and he wasn’t so invested as to warrant the stiffness and chapped skin.
His mind, an explosion of thoughts at the best of times, was already three steps ahead of him, wondering what he’d write later that evening, what stories the kids would have for him, whether the evening would be peaceful, or punctuated — as it was wont to be —by some spat or the other.
And throughout it all he battled with this overwhelming feeling that his life was underwhelming. That he was a fraud, always on the brink of discovery. That he was going through the motions, not really experiencing life, not really living it.
He knew that something had to change, that he had to change.
He needed to commit himself, to find his path then change his narrative.
Inspiration wasn’t just out there waiting to be stumbled upon. No, it was simpler than that. It was everywhere, all he needed to do was look.
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