A dream

In the dream, I was wandering through a town with my camera, taking street photos. I have this thing for using the sun to highlight people’s features, exciting faces and costumes captured as they move in and out of the light in an urban landscape built over centuries of human history. The looks I try to capture are usually lost in thought, neither happy nor sad but lost in their moment with no expression needed.

I wandered for a while through busy markets and indoor emporiums selling antique books and bric-a-brac. Then I turned a corner and happened upon a scene where the people and the backdrop were perfect. I was so excited, just like I always am, when things come together in a shot. The light, as it hit, was low and right behind me, and it lit up the faces just perfectly. The shots I took were so perfect. It was the light, the beautiful light, electrifying the faces. I have this belief that in the right light, no face is ugly or uninteresting.

I continued walking, feeling pleased within and then started to make my way home. It felt like a town in Africa, perhaps in the North, with a port nearby and lots of different faces from around the world. It was a dirtier, shadier side of town, but it felt safe to walk in and photograph even though I was lost.

There was a turn in the road and beyond it, the road became very narrow and dropped beneath me. Rather than climb down, I tried to walk over some narrow ledges. I lowered myself and moved on my hands and feet like a crab to spread the weight evenly.

Once I got through, I looked up and saw before me a vast, wide-sweeping valley stretching far into the distance and rising toward the sky. It extended broader and higher until it was disappearing into the clouds. It was a rich landscape with red soil, yellow, and golden fields abundant with corn and other crops, similar to what I’ve seen in South Africa. The sun shone brilliantly and set the whole thing ablaze with light. Suddenly, I fell to my knees, broke down and cried at how beautiful it was.