PeterWell

Inner Frame

The winter was on time, I was a bit late.

I arrived at the place where clocks regularly slow down, by floating on an entire year of expectations fo...
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The winter was on time, I was a bit late.

I arrived at the place where clocks regularly slow down, by floating on an entire year of expectations for another peek into its eternally poignant world.

It’s all about these mountains which can touch your emotions gently, like a soulful breeze and relieve you of doubts beyond tomorrow.

After many years we’ve settled for a mutually beneficial relationship - I get to promote their magic and in return, the vistas peel off the sorrows of my urban soul.

My eyes glided across the wide ranges, dressed in their parade white coats by a recent cold snap, and shores of the glacial lake in possession of their reflections. Within winter’s frozen smile, I spotted a solitary figure.

With my camera lowered and left to rest on its strap, my thoughts went to the fellow admirer of this silent winter wonderland.

Does he, like me, dream of sweeping panoramas or take pride in capturing details and textures outsiders easily miss or dismiss. Is he going to share his creations or opt to keep them as a private surprise for loved ones?

I realised that whatever the truth is, he will dream up the best ever visual echo of his feelings of this particular moment, the one that will never be repeated by anyone else until the end of time.

I will do the same. I lifted my camera and pressed the shutter.
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