A picture captures a moment that will never happen again… a moment that has come and gone forever… but with a steady hand, right pointer finger pressed ever so gently on the button until it collapses into the camera base, you can give it back to the world.
‘click.’ the shutter sounds.
diamonds for their eyes.
food for the soul.
I scrolled through the pictures I took on my old Nikon after my first trip to Europe, and then, I just sat back. The camera has seen better years, but it still continues to give so much, and again, it had on this special, long weekend.
I am thankful I stopped at that door. along that street. in that neighborhood. Oh, the allure of the old and worn. weathered… it gets me every time.
The color and craftsmanship. how hard did one labor? hands tired… long days.. late nights… How did he reach that level of artistry with metal, wood or stone? you wonder… you wonder what his hands look like. life happened to it… around it… behind it…
The ups and downs. the deep and the dark… a celebration. love. tears of joy. a family home. a palace. a little girls whole world….
The sun casts an ornate shadow on a building… a building that has given shelter to generations upon generations. royalty. mother. father. son. daughter. crowned… a businessman on a rainy day with a broken umbrella… a woman years later stops at its stoop to put her gloves on in the bitter cold of winter. She looks down at her wedding ring before it disappears into the fabric. she adores it as she adores him.
The crease in a lovers smile, captured.
budding flowers in the springtime. color. so much color.
green, green grass.
Paris is a layered beauty… an inspirational beauty that shows another inch of herself… another dimension… and more light… at the next hour. each hour.
She made it easy.
There is true magic in her tiny details.