Today I saw a photograph of a man in Florida. The background was all I seemed to notice. The clouds…the lighting, the patchy grass…
I could feel the air, the warm breeze full of salt. I could feel my own bare feet running in that grass, worried about fire ants. But I never lived there. I’ve only ever visited, and the last visit was a sad one, to say goodbye to my sister who died in Florida. So when I think of Florida, I think of her, and when I think of her I think about childhood.
Seeing this photo, I was transported somewhere else in the time-space continuum…to a time and a place I don’t know if I’ve ever experienced…maybe it’s just a conglomeration of memories, maybe it’s my subconscious putting pieces of things I’ve seen on t.v. together with things I’ve actually experienced in real life…or maybe it’s me recognizing a past that resembles another, different part of my past. Either way, when I saw this picture, I saw past the images, and went straight to the feelings.
A picture is worth a thousand words. Sometimes an image is so breathtaking you simply can’t say anything about it. In this modern world however, where everyone with a cell phone is a photographer, and anyone with Photoshop can produce an image worth sharing, each stunning image loses it’s brilliance among all the other stunning photos. A star shining brightly is hardly noticed among a whole sky of them.
Because of this phenomenon, I have found myself becoming less and less enchanted by these magnificent photos. Instead I’m more likely to pick apart where someone edited a photo, and end up disappointed that such beautifully perfect things never actually exist in reality. That lovely close up of a shell, with the ocean splash behind it? Good thing they cropped the plastic junk down the beach out…but you would too if you were at that beach trying to recreate that shot.
So, to have an image of a man with a hairy belly holding a beer inspire so much in me that I needed to blog about it, means that I guess I haven’t lost my ability to feel after all!
There is just something about this that I can’t put my finger on, but it makes me wish my sister was here to see if she feels it too. I think it reminds me of playing with her…somewhere…not home. Perhaps the summer we spend in Indiana living with our dad….it’s definitely a summer memory. Oh well…the moment is long past now. It was just one of those moments though…I figured I better try to write something down about it, lest I forget forever.