The Best Photo I Ever Took.
Yes, clickbait title. But it’s true.
Bit of context: My family and I were traveling New Zealand in a rental car. I typed the story into my phone hastily in an empty supermarket car park while the rest of the fam were grocery shopping.
A few thoughts: I wish I had the ability to properly convey the full scene and all my emotions, but decided to leave the text as it was typed there and then, albeit adding a few narrative details and the standard edits like spelling etc., only leaving the most personal bits out. I feel this gives the text its authenticity and integrity as I felt in that moment. Embellishing it with beautiful, well thought-out language seems to contradict the whole essence of this text.
16th Dec 2017, Nelson, supermarket car park, 21:20
Just captured what I felt was one of the most moving and beautiful photos of the trip and in fact, of my life so far. It was of a girl, a girl in her car, poking her head out through the towels draped over the window. I am now left with a feeling of intense longing — a longing to talk to her, to get to know her, to establish a connection. I feel almost…lovesick.
I deserve a kick in the guts for not having the courage to approach her, to learn her story. I would absolutely love to. I think, if I was alone, I would.
We stopped by the road to catch the sunset. Spotted a few people fishing, and wandered round for a closer look. She wore ragged clothes, and looked unkempt. I cannot remember if she was barefoot. She was beautiful, bathed in the orange and pink and purple of twilight. I remember her turning around to check us out.
She manned a rod, but quickly disappeared into her car as we lingered a little. Maybe she was shy — shy in her youth and beauty. Her friend, or partner, replaced her, and we managed to see him reel in a sea cucumber later on (which he chucked back into the water with an air of dissatisfaction, much to us Asians’ dismay). Before she went inside though, I managed to catch her eye, and we acknowledged each other with a slight twitch of our cheek.
I continued shooting the seascape for a bit, when my sister tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at the car the unnamed girl was in. She was leaning on the sill, head in her hands, gazing with dreamy, seemingly unfocused eyes. Yes, I believe dreamy is the best description of her, her whole person and manner at that time.
I kept stealing glances at her, and our eyes met again. This time, she flashed me a full-fledged smile. Her whole face lit up. It was one of those moments where you were presented with such utter beauty, all else is stripped away, much like a grand view on a summit, or the first glance of your bride in her gown (I imagine). The rawness and fullness of the scene consumed me, overwhelmed me.
A few moments go by, and I found myself blushing slightly, indecisive, unnatural. For some stupid reason, I then signalled for the family to leave, when all I wanted to do was to stay for as long as possible. As we moved towards our car, I looked back, and saw her looking too. I waved and smiled, and she returned the gesture. She waved and smiled, at me.
I climbed into the seat with the heaviest of hearts.
I’m not sure how someone I never saw before or even spoke to had such immense influence over me. I don’t even know what she sounds like. I only know I live for these moments. These brief, brief moments of chance encounters. The thought of more potential moments like this beckons me to go, to go, to go!
Oh that feeling! That tightening of the chest, the yearning of the soul, the weakening of the will, the deep regret. My heart soars, then sinks, then soars. How does this work? I cannot understand it rationally, so I can only give in and embrace it. I think that’s essential to being human — to allow ourselves to be affected.
Our eyes met three times.
Three times, each time adding another layer. Another layer of…what?
I want to know the girl’s name exceedingly badly.
