Frames

What’s in a picture? A smile? A frown? Is it real? Does it really tell the entire story? Probably not. I sorted through some photos recently and began analyzing them (which I was not surprised to find myself doing). I dove into each photo and remembered why it was taken, who was there. I looked at the faces and tried to figure out why things were so forced. The reactions should have been genuine and not something that was a struggle. The day was bright but the energy was not. The smiles faded in the background with each turn of the page. It was something I carried with me as I slept. Wondered how things should have been done; thought about how happy it should have been. I looked at photos in frames on the department store shelf. That’s what I wanted. That’s what should have looked back at me as I stared into my own frame of life. It’s all perception. Sure there was a smile, a kiss or hug. But was it real? Yes, there was a look of desire. But just before the shot, there was a frustrating remark. Beauty, in the eye of the beholder. Love, lust, happiness, it can be captured in an image but if it’s not in the heart, it’s just a frame.

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