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- Picture Perfect The bride and groom were wed outdoors on the bank of a New York lake on a perfect June morning. The water sparkled blue and crisp like the bride's shining eyes The perfect gentle breeze lightly lifted the folds of her dress just enough to flow and played with her blond tresses framing her glowing face. Her groom, a photographer of flowers, must have fallen in love with her unfolding beauty. Flowers bloomed along the shore. lily's and petunias were carefully placed on the cake along with the ripened strawberries. Fresh, crisp and juicy slightly wet with dew in the early morning flushed excitement in her pink cheeks complimented the cosmos adorning her hair sparkling with rays of the sun. I watched as a guest, a stranger of this couple, accompanying my lover hoping one photo of the bride one image could convey this ultimate joy of a summer day. I voyeuristically focused that lens capturing stolen glances, intimate communication of the lovers. I finally put my camera down self adsorbed in my pursuit of perfection in a photo, so sure I had captured that ethereal beauty of the bride. Lost in thought and anticipationof the moment of darkness, that synergenic, paradoxical,copulative loss of self with uncanny, acute, awareness having such joy and absorption, being in the state of flow, conscious only of the creating then perfecting the perfect print while the sensual red light glows, "CLICK" then, "CLICK" startled me. I looked up to see my lover smile. He was intently looking at me. My camera lay on the table where I had left it. Days later in the darkroom with disappointment after diappointment, the bride not having photographed well, the flowers looking faded, I looked at the final emerging image of the film with great surprise and a little jealousy, tempered by pride and joy at seeing beauty I had not before recognized. All I hoped for was indeed compellingly captured in my own, wistful, dreamy and longing eyes. Co 2003 Msafire � � |