Does the quality of the camera make the picture-perfect or does the subject smiles boldly and willingly? Or the light flash from the somewhere piece you hold, another hand the bright lens of hundred thousand pixels? the lights or the darkness?. Maybe the printing is what holds the picture of what I see the reality.
This is second part of The memory you gave; the lost and forgotten one
Aside from being the way you looked at me, what I admired the most is what you see others in your eyes, I can still see the difference of the loved and crush, the deep cut of romance and the glimpse of your admiration to others, why should I jealous if no one them could rank my identity as your own? Why should I pressure myself to think of all the consequences if I know that what you loved and cared about is only me, the one and only as you says?
These are the memories you gave, why do should I remise them? Simply I am braved enough now to looked at those photos once had emerged from the recycle bin of my computer and choice not to delete them permanently for I had to face what is within in a day to remember and picture what really happened between the two of us.
Who takes those pictures? Why my shot are that ugly and messy while your works are just stunning in my eyes, simply because I see how you shot the leaves of the dying trees, the sunrise and sunset at the bamboo house, the night with lights of different colours and shapes, the flowers that catch along with the infinity of love. I see how you smiled and happy you are when you took those photos to regain in the album of your life.
What makes the art beautiful? You asked me about that could you still remember my answer. We have been in someplace and you just looking in a photo frame of abstract objects and design, the red, yellow and blue colours are just the perfect matched as you liked the most. The shape of the unknown comes like an angel in your eyes, which I can’t see the same. I only see the messy dots and Hue, Color, and Chroma could be seen as overreacting.
That makes the image more perfect you say, the imperfect and irrational lines and shape make you more ready to think and do the hypothesis of your sights, the value of colour yellow made the art more vibrate and the lightness of red and blue made the story inside the painting comes to life. Why not take a shot at that painting with my phone? Sure does, it’s on my gallery even now.
The smile on the photo remains the same, the laugh, and wacky face of you made the picture funnier yet memorable for once I been happy with you, for once you said that memory we had was the best image you had been.
It’s the time that we looked back to yesterday, that may be the essence of the picture even printed or digital, the picture is the one that bridges us to the faded memories. Why people are looking for the past rather than the future? But what is the future when we ignored and forget the past?
Life is like a ferry’s wheel of yesterday and today. Imagine yourself at the top ready to forget what just happened when you are on the radar of climax, then suddenly the stop motion of the bright stars begins to downfall again, did you figure out why we won’t stay on the top? Why the operator once brings us to look at the bright star then later that follows the fall begins that reflect us to the time where we once again inclining.
I hold three pictures in my hand, the picture of you with the painting of abstract colour, and then the photo that got from the festival nears the school in the ferry's wheel. I printed them for the next time we met I should give them back for it’s yours, you are happy and beautiful to that picture so you must, and I must be proud of what you just got.
Maybe it’s the time, I say while smiling at the photo, the first one I choose to save for there was no affection on it, the second one I chose to delete permanently, you once kissed me on my cheeks. Not to be bitter but the memory you gave was amazing and need to be treasure but somehow I am now ready to erase those unnecessarily to be ready for the photo of whomever once come again in my life.
The memory you gave was the line that made me stronger, once I was weaker yet I had come to merging cocoon, don’t worry for I was once failed yet I know how to stand on my own feet right now, those memories of yesterday was just an image for tomorrow. What does tomorrow brings still I don’t know, if the same heartbreak I was will arise again from the other woman maybe I again looked back at the same memories like before.
I am weak yet I am stronger now, thank you for the memories you gave me. I found the photo as the ending of memories. I choose to delete some for the RAM and storage to be freed to be ready for the next photo, in the short message I now moved on.
-END-
THIS IS FICTION STORY part of the first one that I wrote in the same day but I choice to separate for this day haha, Im banking draft LOL
They say that to remember is to live. Memories are part of our life. How to let go of memories that leave scars? It is good to learn to let go but sometimes we don't let go.