You have a beautiful life, I thought as I viewed the pictures on your Friendster account this morning.
I was logging onto the networking service when I saw your picture displayed on the Featured Pictures section. It was a picture of you and your baby daughter and something about it caught my attention. Curious, I dragged my cursor to it and clicked.
You were with your baby girl in the swimming pool. Although it was a close up photograph of the two of you, I could see that the pool must have been crowded- I could tell by the waves that came up to your chest and someone’s elbow poking into the picture. But the look in your eyes as you held your baby girl with one arm while the other wielded a pink floatation device was that of quiet and solace. It was as if there was no one else in the world, but the two of you. From the way the photo caught that moment; the waves frozen and unmoving, the bright pool toy hanging in mid air, it was as if time truly stopped for the two of you there and then. That moment is immortalised. The grains of an hourglass have stopped trickling and hang in the hollow pass between the two bulbs for the two of you.
It could have been a scene from an ancient creationary myth. An elder god holding the infant goddess in his left arm while his free arm swung the sun, stars and moons into existence with the magical raiment of a forgotten goddess. The waters of chaos receding fast, but still choppy and turbulent as they pushed themselves towards you for one last feeble attack to stop the dawn of your age. The elbow poking into the picture could have been the arm of some lower beast- a last warrior of the dark age of the world- sent to stop your reign and light from ever being. But as in all myths, we know that the dark will pass and never win. For there is always valour and those who love the light.
A part of me was tempted to send you a message, to say how happy I was for you though I know you not and share these feelings, but I thought the better of it. The picture and life behind it is that of the two of you alone, and is special to me because I’m not part of it.
I was logging onto the networking service when I saw your picture displayed on the Featured Pictures section. It was a picture of you and your baby daughter and something about it caught my attention. Curious, I dragged my cursor to it and clicked.
You were with your baby girl in the swimming pool. Although it was a close up photograph of the two of you, I could see that the pool must have been crowded- I could tell by the waves that came up to your chest and someone’s elbow poking into the picture. But the look in your eyes as you held your baby girl with one arm while the other wielded a pink floatation device was that of quiet and solace. It was as if there was no one else in the world, but the two of you. From the way the photo caught that moment; the waves frozen and unmoving, the bright pool toy hanging in mid air, it was as if time truly stopped for the two of you there and then. That moment is immortalised. The grains of an hourglass have stopped trickling and hang in the hollow pass between the two bulbs for the two of you.
It could have been a scene from an ancient creationary myth. An elder god holding the infant goddess in his left arm while his free arm swung the sun, stars and moons into existence with the magical raiment of a forgotten goddess. The waters of chaos receding fast, but still choppy and turbulent as they pushed themselves towards you for one last feeble attack to stop the dawn of your age. The elbow poking into the picture could have been the arm of some lower beast- a last warrior of the dark age of the world- sent to stop your reign and light from ever being. But as in all myths, we know that the dark will pass and never win. For there is always valour and those who love the light.
A part of me was tempted to send you a message, to say how happy I was for you though I know you not and share these feelings, but I thought the better of it. The picture and life behind it is that of the two of you alone, and is special to me because I’m not part of it.
To acknowledge it would be to strip away the magic and awe, and some things are best left untouched.
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