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 façade? Can we ever live a life un-filtered?