My phone is Harel’s when we’re together: He has an eye for angles and alignment more than I ever will. He snapped this picture in a plaza in Queretaro, and it’s still one of my favorite photos of all times–the color balance, the simplicity, its subtle complexity.
He also has a fondness for statuary. We once went to a natural history museum and he wandered off while I tried to read a lengthy description of Greek and Roman deities (it was in Spanish, but my familiarity with Greco-Roman mythology allowed me to piece together its meaning). By the time we drifted back together, he had taken pictures of literally every statue in the exhibition hall. Seriously. Each and every one of them.
I have a bad habit of taking too many pictures to remember something and then realizing later, as I look at my pictures, that they don’t really, can’t ever capture the moment like I had wanted them too, and instead of living it more fully, I had lost myself in the momentum of trying to catch it in pixels.
When Harel takes my camera, it’s hard to get lost in something I can’t have–somehow it frees me to be more present in the moment. And when I finally look back through my camera roll, I get to glimpse the experience through his eyes–what were the things that caught his attention, that drew his gaze, that made it memorable for him?
Even now, looking at the pictures he took for me, for us, it makes me feel closer to him.
I’m spending a few weeks in Mexico with my fiancé before school starts in August. While I may be unable to post as regularly as I’d like to while I’m here, I’ll be photo blogging my entire trip on Instagram. Follow me at Writingwolf2010.
Today I’m grateful to be in love with a man who I support unconditionally and who supports me just the same. I’m thankful to live in a country that recognizes our relationship and allows us to obtain a visa so he can move here and we can live together. And I’m thankful for the small number of amazing people who have donated to help us cover these costs.
Will you take a moment to make a small contribution? Just click here.
To the person who stole my wallet yesterday while on the subway in Mexico City with my fiance, I’m sorry. I don’t know why you felt the need to reach into my pocket as the crowd shoved its way into the train car and take what was not yours, but I pray there was a good reason–perhaps your kids are starving and you can’t find a job, perhaps a loved one is sick, perhaps you never learned the difference between right and wrong.
For each of these things, you cannot be blamed, and I am sorry.
Have you ever felt happiness so raw your cheeks hurt from smiling? Have you ever felt such joy your eyes are forced to squinting because it’s too overwhelming to see how beautiful even the most mundane corners of the world have become? Have you ever felt longing so intense every cell seems polarized, pointing in unison toward that point on the horizon where all your hopes and dreams stand in wait, longing equally for you?
I’ve been keeping a secret from you, dear reader, and I’m too excited not to tell.
Today I went on an adventure within an adventure, deep into the center of Mexico City. Or not that deep. It’s hard to measure depth over a lateral distance. And for the past few days, I’ve been walking to pick up my boyfriend after he gets off work, so I’ve gained a few tidbits of wisdom for how to cross the street in Mexico City–in case you should ever be there and find yourself in need of help.
When in Rome, do as the Romans. Or in this case Mexico. And then Mexicans. And that means speak Spanish. Except I can’t. Or I can? Not a lot, but is that the point? I’m lying in the dark at a hostel in Puebla as I write this, and I think I need to start at the beginning.