This new phone has a terrible camera. The pictures look like those made by a low-resolution webcam. grey. grainy. devoid of life. I like taking photos. I buy a proper camera. a nice chunky DSLR with a nice clunky shutter. clack clack it goes.
Photography is best done by seeing something new. Either something you haven't seen before or something you haven't looked at in that way before. I go for a hike. There's a long route I haven't taken before. It starts off at the train station. Little red-white flags indicate the route. I set off. the flags dissappear at the end of the street. I backtrack to the starting point. There's a map on a post. I set off.
I come across a park. There are tiny purple flowers. To get close enough I have to kneel and bend over at an awkward angle. I set the aperture as wide as it will go,
The background goes blurry.
The photo is upside down. No matter, I can fix that later. The photo is pretty.
There's a tree that fell over. I stand beside it to get it framed nicely.
It's vibrantly red and green. I hadn't seen that before I took the picture. Who expects a tree to be red?
There's a wide open expanse. I can see the sand dunes near the sea, where I'm headed. It's too far away to take a picture, the zoom lens doesn't reach.
There's a horse in a field. It's pitch black. it's almost close enough to touch, just a couple steps away. It's too far away.
I cross a rickety bridge over a wet ditch. It sags and undulates under my feet. I can see why people, before they had rickety bridges over wet ditches, used leaping poles as transport. I crouch down and take a picture along the bridge
The horizon is askew.
I walk along a dyke. The water on the right side is much higher than on the left. It's the first time I see that I live below sea level. I've known this of course but this is the first time I see it.
There's a pump house pumping water uphill diligently. There's a sign explaining the little transformator house next to it was designed by some famous architect. The sign is in the way of taking a picture of the pump. The transformator house doesn't look like modern ones. It looks like a quirky little lookout tower. I like it.
The hiking route ahead is closed. Muffled swear words escape like little birds. I walk along a long and boring road instead. There are birds but they are too far away. My feet hurt from walking on asphalt.
I reach the dunes by the sea. I don't have a dune pass so I'm not allowed in. More escaping little birds.
Back home I throw away nine of every ten photos. They are under exposed, over exposed, blurry, or have nothing interesting on them after all. The rest I save. I tilt horizons back the way they are supposed to go.
Clack clack it goes