Marks of Growth_Skewed Perspective - How I Became Pathologically Camera Shy_Roundabout_A smoky star.
Catalog Guide:
Marks of Growth
“What? There’s no way.” I pull away from the wall and look at him incredulously. “See for yourself,” he replies, covering a laugh with the back of his hand, the one that holds the pen.I turn to analyze the marks on the doorframe. The newest marker of my height is, in fact, lower than its predecessor.“I did not SHRINK,” I say shrilly, turning back to him. His eyes are closed with mirth, and I allow myself a small smile.“I am twenty-seven years old! Not eighty! This is absurd. I was probably wearing shoes last time and made a mental note to myself to also wear shoes the next time, but I forgot.”...
Skewed Perspective - How I Became Pathologically Camera Shy
Hello, I am Bernice, and I was pathologically camera shy for many years. Here is how that came to be.My father started taking pictures of me from birth. Back then cameras used flashbulbs. They were extremely bright and left you blind for some seconds at a time (which seemed a lot longer). As I grew to be a toddler I started hiding from my dad whenever he had his camera. I knew what came next, sudden bright flash almost painfuwww.onedoor.ccl to the eyes, and blindness. I hated it! When I could not hide fast enough, I cried. I had become camera shy. From then on, if a camera was anywhere in my vicinity, I mad...
Roundabout
Every sunrise and every sunset, I was met with the cracking road accompanied by the gasoline of thousands of vehicles stained on its path. I had one of those vehicles. I wouldn’t be surprised if some drool from man’s best companion was there, too. I brought Blue back home with me on that roundabout. My first adult decision after renting an apartment was to satisfy my childhood dream of owning a dog. She was a rottweiler I found at a nearby shelter and was only a few years old with her ribs poking out of her sides. Despite the breed being known as very lovable and loyal, the owner of the place...
A smoky star.
She doesn’t seem to understand that when she lights the cigarette she is also setting a flame to their future. She is quietly sitting in her car, one leg dangling out, brushing the faded concrete. Beside her is him, who is tired and exhausted from his shift and simply wants to go home. Behind him is a car seat, one that is adorned in pink and black zebra stripes. The baby that is nestled inside is a spitting image of her mother, the same golden skin and snappy attitude. She also looks like him, which brings a bit of joy to his exhaust ridden frame. We have our groceries, he wants to argue. Can...