I’ll confess I was tired after a long walk around town.
For once I didn’t actually even feel like taking self-portraits, but I went down to the beach anyways.
{its not all me skipping and twirling down the sidewalk taking self-portraits all the time…i definitely struggle with taking selfies too sometimes}
There were a few people there and I wasn’t feeling brave enough to take self-portraits right away. So I wandered further and further down the beach. Rocks in shoes, sun shining fiercely. The further I went, the more free I felt and finally I felt ready to pull the camera out.
I know it always makes me feel good to pull out the camera. So I did.
Energy returned as I twirled, raised my arms, jumped, tiptoed on logs.
I may not have gotten an epic shot, but it really wasn’t about that. It was about this time, this place. Remembering this beautiful solo weekend in which I created space for a new project (of the big dream sort) to be birthed onto the page. Remembering the hours working on it and how I could look up and see the ocean ahead. Remembering the breaks needed to replenish after the output of work and the long walks I’d take around town.
Often, its just about documenting a moment in time, with so many stories other than the obvious one that become embedded in the photo to me.