Morning glory

So it's two in the morning, and I am awake relentlessly editing some photos, sipping on dregs of yesterday's tea, and talking to Mike on MSN.

It is serene times like these that set my mind speculating, namely currently the truth behind the need for and the existence of photography and travels, the former of which does it exist purely as a desire to capture life, or to exaggerate it beyond its mean confines and reach a haven that is perennially beautiful, or at least suitable or desirable to one's own temperamental moods?

It's been a while since I've had a chance to travel for its handsome merits. There is the optimism of finding something new, more hopeful and more beautiful than the current spot of residence. The belief that while loitering down a charming and whimsical street a place more copacetic befalls that one will be more happy in is alluring. So perhaps once one finds such a refuge, there'll be no more will to travel in such a stargazing way.

Sheffield is becoming monotonous to me. I know every nook and cranny like it's the back of my hand, and those I do not know, I have no interest in exploring. The sense of the unknown is gone so perhaps now would be a fitting time to move on.

Therein travel and photography draw a parallel. One explores in travels to unearth a place that is as beautiful as he imagines, so that he hopes he will be perpetually content there. On the other hand, photography lends a portal into an imaginatively beautiful haven that may be improbable in reality but one always tries to create for himself so that he may achieve such a place of true contentment.

Both provide certain hope behind the motivation to plough through in life, hope that something more befitting to our individual contentment might befall us, the optimism that we all sometimes need. So at the end of the road, there is hope we can all say, "wasn't life beautiful?".