To waste

I was never able to steer imagination the way I wanted. Tried words, music, tried everything and never was I able to show exactly what I wanted, to make people see what I wanted them to see. In the end, I realized that I am left with no choice but to show them exactly what I see, to show them the world through my eyes. And then, photography became more than a hobby.

Nevertheless, there are still many things which I can’t capture, which are only there for one second and then they are lost forever. In just that way, I was never able to catch the essence of your perfume. I took a whiff of it and then it was imprinted there, in some dark corner of my mind, forever. It became as essential to me as air and every day in which I would sit right behind you breathing through you was wasted because I never dared move up-front and grab its essence. It’s funny that I never liked your perfume…I hated it from the first day. I though it was a horrible essence for a woman’s skin. Nevertheless, there was something in the mystic olfactory print it had that was more enchanting than anything so simple had ever been before. Those days are gone now and they were all wasted by a pointeless wait. Last time I met you, you were wearing a different perfume, which was the first thing to warn me that things and times have changed – as I was soon going to discover. I find that perfume ocassionaly, on some random girl hurrying through the crowded streets or hallways and it always amazes me what magic reminiscing power it has. But I was never able to capture it and I never will be… It always fades slowly away into utter ignorance until the next time when a random encounter will provide me with a few moments of reunion with those days.

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