A Memory Collector

Memories captured in pixels; a remembrance of times past.

The same shade of burnt orange binds us together, once everyday, unfailingly.
A mnemonic for love across continents.

He taught me that the secret to happiness lies in waking up each day to live like it’s your first.
He taught me that happiness seldom judges you by the size of your wallet.

Sometimes there’s no other way.
Sometimes you have to lose enough to stop living in the fear of losing.

In that moment it all made perfect sense.
Like a line of symmetry running through the confounding conundrum of time.

The eluding magnificence and beauty of love will someday dawn on us.
A hug too will then fall short.

They breathe in a vacuum and live in a state of nothingness.
They still hit the shore with an invigorating zest.

A hundred changing weathers and a thousand setting suns.
The cement and mortar too bear testimonies, crumbling.

They call me a collector of memories. Ticket stubs, handwritten notes, sea shells, wilting flowers, the pen with a broken nib… I am always overcome by a compelling surge to collect these insignificant reminders of times, gently slipping away, lest they become forgettable. And this post is just that. Memories captured in pixels; a remembrance of times gone.

If you’ve been following me on Instagram you would have seen some of these images I put up when I was out and about in Sri Lanka. All these pictures (on instagram under the #shfgoestosrilanka) have been shot and edited on my Nokia Lumia 1020. While there’s no denying that Sri Lanka was beautiful, these postcard-perfect images capture the country’s scenic landscapes at its magnificent best. And although I did carry my DSLR along, I didn’t really feel the need to get it out and you can see why. The images are crisp enough to be blown up, framed and relived. Just how I like my memories to be.

Till the next (outfit) post,
There is 1 comment for this article
  1. Soumi at 8:19 pm

    This vast spread of beauty is always overwhelming,no? I just felt like crying. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for you.

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