Claire brushed aside a curly, dark brown lock that had escaped her braid and she refocused. With a steady hand, she held the camera and squatted in front of the log. She barely took a breath, afraid her arm might tremble. Everything seemed perfect for the picture she had in mind.
Several people passed by in the park, giving her puzzled looks. They couldn’t understand what she was so intensely observing.
Some stopped behind her, raising their eyebrows at the log.
If someone had such a high-quality and expensive camera, like Claire, they must be a professional photographer, and a professional must have seen something artistic and awe-inspiring in that piece of wood.
With this thought in mind, one of the women behind her took out her phone and snapped a photo of the log. Satisfied, she turned around, enthusiastically sharing her new “artwork” with her friends.
Claire didn’t notice any of this. She moved closer to the tree, changed the lens on her device, and began taking more pictures.
People standing around looked at each other and then pulled out their phones. There had to be something perfect in that scene. Some thought the light fell just right, others wondered if the background was particularly beautiful.
One man rolled his eyes, stepped forward, squatted a meter away from Claire, and quickly took a photo from there. Others didn’t understand the essence. Surely, the log had to be photographed from this height to look good. When he finished, he stood up, checked the picture, hurriedly applied a filter, and felt satisfied.
Claire noticed this. She stared at the man with a confused look, then turned around. It was only then that she saw the group that had formed behind her. Everyone eagerly took pictures of the log with their phones.
The sight astonished Claire for a moment. She watched them for a few seconds, then she grinned. The gathered crowd hadn’t the faintest idea of what she were actually photographing. They ended up with nothing more than a meaningless picture of a piece of wood.
After the crowd dispersed, Claire stood up. She stretched her legs and, chuckling to herself, walked along the dusty path in the park. As she strolled, she lifted her camera and reviewed the pictures.
The little snowdrop she captured through the hole in the log looked perfect.
Stella Watson
If you enjoyed it, please like, share and subscribe for more.
Follow me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100089570148846
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/StellaW887
Stella Watson author/író 