Every Picture Tells A Story

I have no idea who took this photograph, or where it was taken. It looks like there may have been some alterations involved as to the hue, etcetera, but I’ve not altered it myself. It was on Tumblr a few years ago and it reminded me so much of a memory that I found myself staring at it for quite a while. Then I realized it wasn’t necessarily evocative of a particular memory, but of a feeling. To me, this photograph feels like walking across the schoolyard on a winter day so cold the air is stinging my nose and ears. It reminds me of pulling my coat up and breathing down into the collar, shoving my hands into my pockets, of trying to figure out how to carry my books without exposing my fingers to the cold. The grass is wet and soaking through the toes of my tennis shoes a little, the brisk air is nonetheless invigorating. The steam and the smoke from the buildings remind me of finding dryer vents or heater vents to warm our hands under for a minute before returning to playing four square. It reminds me of the relief of reaching the warmth of the classroom but still not taking our coats off for a minute or two. It reminds me of early mornings and late afternoons in Wintertime.

It is an elegant photograph in a warm hue of what seems a cold day, in which there are hiding and living many stories and dreams.

TS

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