Reflections on the ledge…

sdr_HDRB

Perspective. I snapped a photo and shared it. Someone who knows both me and the view questioned it. Instead of seeing what I saw, marvelling at the glint on the snow, the light on the hills, the sky and sun reflecting in a puddle of meltwater, bright enough to hurt my eyes and draw me outside barefoot he asked ‘Where’s the church gone?’

I was forced to admit that the church was still there, hidden from view by the remains of the Christmas tree. I had squeezed behind it in an attempt to capture a view that changes from one second to the next as the light shifts.

Perspective. A slippery beast. How much of what we see is dictated by what we expect to see? How much of what we see is a projection, a fa├žade? Can we ever live a life un-filtered?

 

 

 

 

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