After I purchased Diana 3 weeks ago, I had this eager feelings about a thick blue-covered book titled " More True Tales and Short Stories", provided in the box. TheN without any hesitant, I lingered through the page, just like that to get the idea of what's written in the book. I thought it was the manual book but no way because it's thicker than my SLR manual. HAHA but all I saw was some lomo photos and a bunch of lomo history. Okay, the photo maybe a little bit interesting but the words, umm No No. All i know was the camera was invented in Hong Kong, right ?
So yesterday, I brought the book with me and read it during the lunch break since I won't be needing it anyway in this fasting month. So I sat under a tree and began to read it. This time, I'm really reading it. And guess what ? It's not just a book with some photos and words, but valuable stories that could shed hearts and tears. I almost realised something from it. And all of you, my followers are soooooooooo lucky that I'm sharing a story with y'all :)
But this is just a part of the summary. Here it goes
So yesterday, I brought the book with me and read it during the lunch break since I won't be needing it anyway in this fasting month. So I sat under a tree and began to read it. This time, I'm really reading it. And guess what ? It's not just a book with some photos and words, but valuable stories that could shed hearts and tears. I almost realised something from it. And all of you, my followers are soooooooooo lucky that I'm sharing a story with y'all :)
But this is just a part of the summary. Here it goes
When she was a little girl, Nancy's aunt told her that photographs were reflections of how the person behind the camera tuly saw the person in front of it.She was six. She didn't think much of that little nugget of insight at that time, but nevertheless, when her aunt placed the plastic camera into her hands, her quest to forever capture and immortalize the souls of strangers began.
Diana, goddess of the hunt. It was a fitting name for a camera, she thought years later. She had an entire room in her home devoted to small, square photos of all the faces she had caught on celluloid; the spoilts of the hunt. she possessed souls and stories in 5" x 5" prints scattered acrosss whitewashed walls. She had a piece of heart of the world. In her room of photos and faces, she had the world at her fingertips. The stories of the world, stolen forever in the blink of an eye.
On a drunken, chaotic night at a local rock club, she found herself seated next to a musician she eas acquainted with. They were both nursing bottles of cold beer, and there were empty shots glasses scattered across the table. She was never very good at staying sane under the influence, but she seemed to be holding her own quite well.
" You know, I know nothing about you," he said, taking a swig of beer. She put her bottle down. " What is there to know ? i take pictures", she replied, lifting her camera. It was darkin the club ; with the camera in one hand and a bright flash in another, she stole his face. " You don't just take pictures," he said. " You take the people you photograph. Look, now I'm yours forever." She smiled. He leaned in, as if to kiss her. His face was an inch away from hers, and she breathed the smells of smoke, alcohol, and longing. " I've seen every photograph you've ever taken," he whispered. " I own every single book of your work that has been published, every magazine, every print".
"I've seen the lives you have imprisoned in square sheets of paper,and they are beautiful, just beautiful. But what I have never seen," he said, " what I have never seen is YOUR LIFE". he told her that she was beautiful. " But I don't think you have ever seen it," he said. ' You all people should ". At teh end of the night, hey exchanged numbers with the promise of drinks and conversation. the promise was enough.
And when Nancy entered her room of photographs, of souls and stories, she picked her Diana up, and for the first time in all her 26 years, pointed it at her own face, clicked the shutter, and finally captured her own soul. :)
p/s : Sweet and meaningful isn't it ?
Diana, goddess of the hunt. It was a fitting name for a camera, she thought years later. She had an entire room in her home devoted to small, square photos of all the faces she had caught on celluloid; the spoilts of the hunt. she possessed souls and stories in 5" x 5" prints scattered acrosss whitewashed walls. She had a piece of heart of the world. In her room of photos and faces, she had the world at her fingertips. The stories of the world, stolen forever in the blink of an eye.
On a drunken, chaotic night at a local rock club, she found herself seated next to a musician she eas acquainted with. They were both nursing bottles of cold beer, and there were empty shots glasses scattered across the table. She was never very good at staying sane under the influence, but she seemed to be holding her own quite well.
" You know, I know nothing about you," he said, taking a swig of beer. She put her bottle down. " What is there to know ? i take pictures", she replied, lifting her camera. It was darkin the club ; with the camera in one hand and a bright flash in another, she stole his face. " You don't just take pictures," he said. " You take the people you photograph. Look, now I'm yours forever." She smiled. He leaned in, as if to kiss her. His face was an inch away from hers, and she breathed the smells of smoke, alcohol, and longing. " I've seen every photograph you've ever taken," he whispered. " I own every single book of your work that has been published, every magazine, every print".
"I've seen the lives you have imprisoned in square sheets of paper,and they are beautiful, just beautiful. But what I have never seen," he said, " what I have never seen is YOUR LIFE". he told her that she was beautiful. " But I don't think you have ever seen it," he said. ' You all people should ". At teh end of the night, hey exchanged numbers with the promise of drinks and conversation. the promise was enough.
And when Nancy entered her room of photographs, of souls and stories, she picked her Diana up, and for the first time in all her 26 years, pointed it at her own face, clicked the shutter, and finally captured her own soul. :)
THE END
p/s : Sweet and meaningful isn't it ?
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