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Internal picture frame

I am honestly no good at taking pictures; either I forget, or I am often too stunned by what I see, or I am too busy taking it all in.

[Thankfully, others sometimes take pics, so I do have some printed out in an old-fashioned scrapbooklike album]

What I have is like an internal picture frame, in which special moments and scenes are kept. Actually, I might have more than one of these internal frames, but never mind.

Yesterday I watched a little boy of about four. He was blondish and his skin gleamed with sunscreen, and wearing shorts, tshirt and a cap, and standing in front of his dad with the biggest grin on hia face. Hi dad was sitting on a sunlounger and blew soap bubbles in the air. Each time he did, the little one put his head in his neck and looked up, tried to follow all the bubbles at once, laughing and finger pointing and jumping up and down in joy. Then he kind of hurried to catch a low-flying one, and when he didn’t catch it but make it burst, he giggled and turned back to his dad. Obediently, he blew more bubbles in the sky. And here we went again.

No picture could convey the joy and amazement of the little man. He was contagious, as me and several onlookers started smiling, too.

I love my internal picture frame(s). Maybe I’ll scroll through some of them while I am sunbathing/wind-ignoring on my last full day here. Maybe you do, too.

Author: carasmelody

daydreamer, hopelessly hopeful, I love the power of words, I love poems, words are soulfood

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