Photography is the art of observation. It has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them.
I spend the morning in my manuscript crafting, if not sandcastles, rudimentary structures that lay the foundation for them. Maya let’s me know that it’s time for a break around noon, and we go outside where the sun is shining and it’s relatively warm.
I had considered, in the back of my mind, going to the park and playing photographer in the afternoon; the warmth of the sun on my body convinces me. I pack my camera bag, make a short list of errands I need to run while I’m out, and set a course.
I find magic in the park and, as I drive home afterwards, converse with the Creator about it. Then, after dabbling in post-processing, I head out to the hot tub and continue the—mostly one-way—conversation. Listening.
And it is well.