|Hey, there I am somewhere else!|
A burning need to capture a beautiful moment on film, usually with a bunch of bedraggled women in front of it, was in evidence last week. Had I participated fully, there would now be roughly 1,000 photographs in which I appear circulating the globe. Instead, after about the third one I begged off, claiming it was against my religion, or that I was wanted by the FBI, or that I was simply too tired to get off the bus and stand and wave at the camera. (One of the rare ones that snagged me is shown above.)
The silliest thing about travel pictures is that often the best moments are never captured on film, yet they remain seared into our memory anyway. Once back home, though we may organize our photos and show them off proudly to our friends, a fleeting undocumented moment will stick out forever. Over time it might be all we remember, regardless of the scores of pictures taken in front of this particular wall or inside that particular restaurant. If I suffer a brain injury all will be lost, but until then, I'm set.