Picturesc

There have been many times where the thought of a story would peer into my brain and shortly after run away to coward again in the corner. What stories do I have to tell? What separates me from the rest of the crowd in a way that makes you actually sit here now and read this?
To keep the answers short, I’ll simply say that I am an ordinary individual that lives by the ideals of the everyday, that each morning may be my last and all I can hope for in the end is one more day, just one more day to live, love and laugh the sun away.
So since there is no story to tell, I’ll say this. I am a college student in the great SUNY system, Potsdam to be exact, chosen over three highly better schools, but the liberal education and lifestyle of the staff and the concert waiting to happen living keeps me active, attentive and aware. For once, I am not bored with my surroundings, maybe because each turn presents a new adventure. I write this on the Christmas break of my freshman year in college, now a graduate of semester one and waiting the grueling semester that lay ahead for me in the upcoming months. I hope to finally travel overseas next year as a sophomore, to Hungary of all places, but who the hell knows? I may as well just study in England; at least I’ll know the language.
No my story is not an interesting one, but there are the stories out there that must be told. I stood in the dark shadows of a bus station not long before this vacation back home and discussed photographs with a man that has been in the business for decades. I was amazed by the art work that lay before me in the pages of his portfolio. But only when he started to tell the stories behind them, a fire in his building where only a small set of negatives were recovered, revealing a spectacular photo of a beautiful brunette on a ancient looking Jaguar sports car. This man had taken the pictures of dozens of individuals who had moved through the Potsdam school system that conducted music and had lived decades before.
I was pushed to thinking. If a picture of a leaf no bigger then a Canadian two dollar piece and a standing “Danish” wolfhound were so stunning, was it because of the visuals or because of the mesmerizing stories that followed them? I have always had dreams of raveling, to knocking on doors of people I had never met before and listening to the paths these people have followed to where they are standing at that very moment, captures by a spotlight and a lens.
All that I can recall are the pictures at the front of this portfolio, where all the dreams began. They are of me and someone special in my life, years ago and young in the evening sun. There are countless stories that lay in her delicate smile and inviting eyes. The starlit nights and snow covered mornings all but encompassed my teenage hood and made a future in me. I hope that this will stretch to the people who see them and realize the stories are of people who finally had them told, unlike the millions that lay quiet.