(Continuing from the post before this.)

Yesterday, I also came to realise how photography is totally out of my system. I think I enjoyed the walk more and life in general without having to look at everything through a fcking frame. Think about the composition, think about the lighting, think about editing, think about whatever it is and snap. At the point at which you ‘snap’, the picture is gone. The moment is gone. The moment which you have lived in has been CAPTURED. The question is, by what and by whom? Have you lived in it??? Living life in retrospect, deferring experiences to when you re-visit the photos.

Reducing everything to mere colours and geometry. What about the feel of the sun, the wind, the texture of the ground, the smell of anything and everything? What about the things that are outside the frame? Looking at a great picture you can always say, I can almost feel the sun on my face! But Almost, always almost. Why leave things to imagination? Why relegate the quality of a moment to the quality of the photo?

I don’t think photography was a hobby, it was my life, literally. A mirror. I lived by way of photography— always in the corner looking through something else, not existing in the moment and more of after the moment, needing validation, approval. That’s why I think I was so ‘good’ in it and also why I was so obsessed with it. But now I’m not— that’s why I grew out of it and no matter how I was telling myself I’ll get back, I couldn’t really sustain it.

Photography is not an outlet, it is a vacuum cleaner

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