Tag: fragments

  • šŸ“· Learning to Look Closer #12: Between the Songs

    Concert photography makes you want to chase the obvious moments.

    The singer at the microphone.

    The lights hitting perfectly.

    The crowd with their hands in the air.

    The big moments.

    But sometimes I like the ones in between better.

    I took this photo at the concert, and there isn’t actually a whole lot happening in it.

    She isn’t singing into a microphone.

    There isn’t a giant explosion of lights behind her.

    There aren’t a hundred things fighting for your attention.

    It’s just her.

    Standing on the edge of the stage.

    Arms stretched toward the ceiling.

    Purple light and smoke filling almost everything around her.

    And somehow, that makes her feel even smaller and the moment feel even bigger.

    That’s what I keep coming back to when I look at this picture.

    The space.

    I could have cropped most of it away.

    I could have brought her closer and made her fill the frame.

    But I don’t think I want to.

    Because the empty space is part of the photograph.

    It shows how big that stage felt.

    How much atmosphere was hanging in the air.

    How one person can take up such a tiny part of a photograph and still be the first thing your eye finds.

    And I love the way she’s reaching into all of it.

    There’s something about concerts that photographs never quite capture.

    You can photograph the artist.

    You can photograph the lights.

    You can photograph the smoke.

    But you can’t really photograph the bass vibrating through your chest or the sound of hundreds of people singing the same words.

    You can’t photograph what it feels like to hear a song you love performed right in front of you.

    But every once in a while, I take a picture that feels like it caught a tiny piece of that feeling anyway.

    I think this is one of those.

    Not because I caught the biggest moment.

    Because I noticed the smaller one.

    And sometimes, when I look closer, those are the pictures I end up loving most.

    Until next time,
    —Destiny

    P.S. When you take pictures at concerts or events, do you usually photograph the big moments—or the little ones happening in between?

  • Sunday Things #1

    There’s something about Sundays that feels different.

    The week slows down just enough to catch its breath, and for a little while, everything feels a little quieter.

    This week wasn’t the easiest.

    A sinus infection and a stomach bug forced me to slow down in ways I didn’t want to. I missed work, spent more time resting than doing, and was reminded that sometimes our bodies make the decisions for us. It wasn’t the week I had planned, but it was the week I needed.

    ā˜• This Week’s Comfort

    Hot showers.

    Clean pajamas.

    A warm blanket.

    And Bailey Sarian playing in the background while I let myself finally relax.

    šŸ“· Through My Lens

    This week reminded me that slowing down has its own kind of beauty.

    One of my favorite photographs I shared was a close-up of a sunflower covered in tiny droplets of water. It’s amazing what you notice when life forces you to stop rushing.

    šŸ’­ A Thought I’ve Been Carrying

    I’m learning that rest isn’t something you have to earn.

    Sometimes your body whispers.

    Sometimes it shouts.

    Either way, it’s worth listening.

    ā¤ļø This Week’s Gratitude

    I’m grateful for feeling a little better than I did a few days ago.

    I’m grateful for people who show kindness without being asked.

    And I’m grateful that this little blog finally exists after spending so long as ā€œone day.ā€

    Here’s to a new week.

    I hope it’s gentle with all of us.

    Until next time,

    — Destiny

    P.S. What’s one small thing that made you smile this week? I’d love to hear about it.

  • Notebook Pages #1

    Before we begin…

    Notebook Pages is where I’ll share the things that haven’t quite found a home yet—poems, story ideas, fragments, questions, and the words that end up in the margins before they become something bigger.

    Not everything I write is meant to become a finished piece.

    Some thoughts are complete exactly as they are.

    And I think there’s something beautiful about that.

    I’ve always written in the margins.

    Not because I ran out of room, but because that’s where the thoughts seemed to belong.

    The backs of receipts.

    Sticky notes.

    The notes app on my phone.

    Random notebooks with no organization whatsoever.

    Half-finished poems.

    Story ideas that arrived at two in the morning.

    Questions with no answers.

    I’ve realized that not everything I write needs to become something bigger.

    Some words are enough exactly as they are.

    So this is Notebook Pages.

    A place for unfinished thoughts, poems, fragments, questions, and whatever else finds its way onto the page before it knows what it wants to become.

    Today’s notebook page simply says:

    ā€œI wonder how many versions of ourselves we carry without realizing it.

    The child who believed.

    The teenager who questioned everything.

    The adult still trying to figure it all out.

    Maybe growing up isn’t becoming someone new.

    Maybe it’s learning how to carry every version of yourself with kindness.ā€

    That’s all for today.

    Until next time,

    — Destiny

    P.S. Do you keep a notebook, or are you more of a notes-app-on-your-phone kind of person?