A Different Kind of Story - Pt. 3

In parts 1 and 2, I focused on glimpses, or moments between expressions on a person's face. This was to reveal a side of theirs either previously unseen by others, or unknown to themselves.


The final part of my photo series below uses the same theme, but with a more direct approach i.e, the glimpse reveals the essence of a relationship between two beings, while interacting with each other. I hope I have succeeded.

Thanks to everyone who cooperated (and a big squeeze for Mowgli the dog)! This is the conclusion of a fun ride, and I hope to publish more photographs with a variety of themes!

''Be quiet! I'm telling the story!''

Friends in love.

(From him) ''I like her snoring. Hope she likes mine.''
(What I see) ''Thank you. For being yourself.''

\

I will always wait for you.

Time

Time changes everything
Faces become images
Then memories
To be played like slides
With a smell, a sound, in the dark

Time changes everything
When you're away
You lose sight of who you were
Sometimes that's good; other times
Do you even know your name?

Time changes everything
Today, when you're with family
You're back after a long while
A long while means difference
And no one here seems to remember that

Time changes everything
When you're alone in a crowd
It means you've forgotten
How to fit in when you're alone
That's how it used to be

Time changes everything
Every place, every face, every feeling
It's because of time you have to move on
But does starting off by yourself
Have to be so bumpy and painful?

Everyone has it wrong, you see
When the world's your oyster
And you're the only one to take a certain path
You're in charge of your own destiny
It doesn't change how lonely it can be.

Time changes everything
It changes your perspective
It changes day and night
But most of all
It can change how strong you felt before

A Different Kind of Story - Pt. 2

Here are more photos, as promised. Stay tuned for additional individual stuff. I'll also try and explore relationships in the next lot.

You know you can trust me.

Don't take joy for granted!

Limpid in every sense.

Confidant.

A Different Kind of Story

I want to talk to you about moments. There are stories that can be found in just about every person's gaze, but those fleeting glimpses of their expressions in the shift between one moment and another - those are often the richest and most engaging tales of them all. Sometimes, I think you discover more layers in these to a person, than any heart-to-heart or prolonged observation of their behavior can reveal. 

I hope the photos below speak to you of these people as much as the moments I photographed them in did to me,

Disclaimer: Most of the photos below are not candid or posed, but somewhere in between (if that's possible). The boy looking up at the sky was the only one who was completely unaware, and that kind of makes his childlike wonderment all the more delightful.

Lots of criticism appreciated (both bouquets and brickbats).

Thanks to everyone who cooperated! I'll be adding more from time to time.

Genuine happiness...or the beginnings of mischief?

Daydreamer's paradise -  oblivious to everything else

A Coldplay song in a single gaze. He was staring at seagulls competing for the chips he'd thrown at them.

Storytelling in all its forms here.

'What do you want me to say? I don't know anything.'

A happy break during narration.

Kindred spirit.

What can you see here?

Sing a new song, Chiquitita.

Pensive and Pensieve (hot chocolate, actually).

Petrichor

Don't be flattered, petrichor.
You are but squelched earth hiding,
The sins of sins, seeking and finding,
Poisonous refuge in earthy grave.
You are odour; I refuse to crave
Your sweet - your bitterness
After a night of wetness,
Of gentle showers and sorrowful downpour
That shake me to my very core.
You are wrong for my soul.
I once welcomed the joy you seem to dole
Out, to the world and upon a time,
To me; it is now a crime.
Stop arising, just do not be.
I scorn you, I detest you,
I curse you as the foul smell of rue.
None can see you, but I can feel
Terrible sadness, played around the wheel
Of time that cannot anymore be lived.
I work in clear sheets, with droplets livid
In their rage against the ground, in the air.
I am the moment's anger; it isn't fair.
You are not to be remembrance,
You are not to let me reminisce.
T-this - stop, stop! I will not bow!
Petrichor, if you insist on stooping so low,
Then learn to live and let live.
If you must take, I will give
And let my tears, the bitter smell of salt,
Join in convincing you of your fault.

Today

I do not want to regret

Regret, like taking the first train

Jumping off the platform

And finding myself bent double 

In a crowd full of every woman for herself.

I do not want to regret

Regret being sliced and diced

Refrigerated and folded

Packed into a tin

Along with a hundred thousand others.

Today I take the first step

A small one, but it's a start.

I tire of the taste of ashes

Of dreams only dreamt

Then burned like this scrap I write on.

Today what I want to say

Will begin to take shape.

The deadline's in clear sight

And the trail less so.

I follow the lead of my heroes

Perhaps not to bleed for a greater good, yet

But to bleed for myself

For not now, then when?

When will I become like them?

I will not regret

Not fighting tooth and nail

To shine inside out

Today I take the first step

And it won't be the last.

Much Ado About Nothing

The first time she asked, he'd had a legitimate reason to back out. 'Nuh-uh,' he said, inwardly thankful for his hard-as-nails boss. 'I have a huge presentation the day after, don't even -' 'Get you started?' she'd said dryly, and he'd blushed hard. Okay, so he spent inordinate hours complaining about work. That still didn't deter him from using it as an excuse to not join her. Rolling her eyes, she'd flounced off to her own drawing board.

The second time it happened, he was attacking her and she - happily for him - was enjoying it very much indeed. The moment came (ahem) when he was nuzzling her smooth inner thigh. Breathlessly, she gasped out her request, meeting his astonished eyes with her own, low-lidded and dark with lust. He didn't say a word - didn't have to, not when he bent his head in a sudden moment of inspiration and she was blazing home with no memory afterward of her question.

Then again, she'd always had that annoying habit of springing something on him when he was at his most vulnerable. So it came to this - a week after that particularly pleasurable night, when he was sprawled out on the sofa in his boxers having just downed a plate and a half of lasagne, and completely at peace with a copy of Jurassic Park, he didn't look up till a loud thump shocked him into doing just that.

'What?' he barked, snappy because he was startled. She didn't give a damn though (Never did, he thought wryly). Instead she grinned at him happily and mouthed what she wanted. 'Come on, I've been asking you forever and you always refuse!'

He gulped and promptly rolled off the sofa. 'I - er, can't. Not tonight, anyway,' he said. 'Why not?' she asked, annoyed. 'Because, uh...I have to finish this. Yeah, can't keep it too long here, heh,' he said, his voice sounding irritatingly jaunty even to himself. She raised an eyebrow. 'You borrowed it from me,' she said, pointing at the book. 'And in case you haven't noticed, I'm not a librarian - unless you want me to be.' The last part was drawn out in a whisper and his throat went dry for an entirely different reason.

'Okay, fine!' he said, sitting up. 'I just don't want to, all right!' He glared at her; she was unfazed. Instead she frowned and plopped down next to him.

'Funnily enough, I'd figured that out myself. Why, though?' He sighed, she could be so incredibly stupid sometimes. 'It's because that thing -' and he pointed at the offending object  '-is not for grown men! Or for grown ANYBODY!'

Her frown deepened. 'It's just a one-time thing! I have to put up with your stupid  ABBA records every time we go on a long road trip -' He gasped angrily. 'You said you liked those!'

'Well, I do and I'm not lying,' she said exasperatedly. 'I'm just wondering why you can't do the same thing for me!'

He threw his hands up in despair. 'It represents an ideal world where ironically stereotypes still persist! And - come on - it's so childish.'

She was foaming at the mouth now. 'Did you think of all those words by yourself?' she asked sarcastically. 'For your information, this one doesn't have any of that. And - no, listen to me!' she shouted as he opened his mouth to retaliate. 'You're such a hypocrite! What do you want from me? One moment you're saying you're glad I'm some wacky 500-Shades-of-Summer girl, dressed in sweats, blowing raspberrys at Taylor Swift, and screaming inappropriate shit at the top of my voice, and the next moment you want me to put my hair up and talk about the existential crisis that pervades our race while watching Night and Fog. Yes, I loved that too, that's not the point!' she screamed when he got to his feet.

Then her eyes grew big. 'Why am I - just me,  all of me - not enough?' He stopped, gaping. This was NOT how things were supposed to go. How did this discussion end up being about her?

She was still looking at him dolefully. Her eyes grew bigger; they were starting to become suspiciously shiny, too.  'Do you have to categorize everything you do or like? I guess - I just,' here she laughed sadly , and his heart contracted even more. 'I just miss the days we could cut ourselves some slack, have a laugh without analyzing every bit of what we do together.'

He sighed and bent his head. She was right, of course. He just wished he wasn't so upset about it - he hated feeling  guilty when he'd started out all righteous. She was good at giving him the most vicious reality checks.

He finally looked up to smile at her. 'All right,' he said. 'Just - next time, don't guilt trip me into watching Mulan with you again. Just ask me once, I'll do it.'

The joy that lit her face was brilliant. 'Yay! And I just got the DVD player working again too. I've never missed watching  Mulan each year, ever since I was three,' she babbled excitedly as he snuggled up next to her. He grinned; she really did want to share something she loved so much with him. And although it made him all the more ashamed of himself, he couldn't help but feel a little honoured, too. He - well, he loved her, he thought, ducking his head and blushing to himself.

It was an hour and a half before he could pick his jaw off the floor. 'This. Movie. Is. The. BEST,' he said, a tingling down his spine signalling the same. He'd had it before, when he first watched Trainspotting. 'It was so great, especially the part where she-' he said, turning to her before stopping short. She was curled up tightly around his back...and asleep.

Well, that was just great, he grumbled in his head, wiggling so that his nose was level  with her throat, and he could breathe her in. I'll make her regret this thoroughly; tomorrow I'm going to download every Disney princess movie and force her to watch them with me, and then we'll move to stuff I like - the whole American Pie series, and all the worst Sacha Baron Cohen ones, and then -

He was asleep within seconds.