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I Stumbled Upon The Flowers of Botticelli
Notes from my daily photography experiments #11
The gravel churned under the sole of my sandal as I walked uphill. Nature found itself silent at this time, the quiet moment after the day bugs retire, and right before the insects of the night emerge from their daytime slumbers.
I found myself with my companion on a brisk evening walk, the rain had taken a momentary pause, just in time for the both of us to enjoy the final moments of our humid summer. The sky was misty and felt pregnant with another rainstorm.
As I climbed, the churning of the gravel dimmed to the churning of my mind reviewing the content of my day. As always, I felt dismayed at the mediocrity of my day, and the compliance I had in it. The comfort I had in my own mediocrity disturbed me, but the solace and comforting bosom of boredom called me to it.
My palate had somehow become satiated with the simplicity of filling of time with what another person had imagined I would find pleasure in, instead of seeking out my purest desires and enjoyments. I had found it too cumbersome to fill my earthy body with my own joy, and felt that my attention was appeased by following the taste of that of a CEO’s, or a faceless producer.
