Someday, I’ll look into why my digital camera comes up with little faults/coloured dots on photographs when I turn up the ISO in fading light (sometimes it’s dust, other times I’m unsure). For now, I’m going to fill a post with grainy photos which occasionally feature a constellation of these pretty little mishaps (which turned out less noticeable than I expected, especially when viewing this on a smartphone screen). I love that these pictures have a fuzzy, film photo feel. It suits the atmosphere, the way I felt that night.
My bed used to stand under the window in my room, sometimes I miss sitting on it there, so end up on the table I put in its place. Life is weird at the moment. I’m trying my darnedest to remain open and learn as much about music as I can, improving my dexterity, hand strength and knowledge as I go. Why does that feel weird? Because music is my friend. It was there when nobody else could be. Every page of midnight lyrics was a promise to myself, that one day I’d have a voice people chose to hear, that one day it would be okay.
I guess it’s “one day” now. Only, I can’t entrust some future Sakara to learn the structures I need if I want to get my points across properly. I have to trust myself. Right here, right now. Sitting on a table, playing to myself and the sunset. Well, right now I’m actually on a chair in the garden, typing on my laptop while wearing knickers and a t-shirt (it’s not that hot but my skinny jeans had invited a bug bite, so they had to go…).
That was the thing about the evening I took these photographs. I played for me. Like music was my friend again, only now it has more to offer because of the weird learning phases I’ve already been through.
I’m far from sorted, far from satisfied. There’s always more to learn. But I must remember this balance. There’s music as a practice, a profession and a way to spread messages. Then there’s music as a way to offer friendship to myself when I need it the most.
I’ve also included photos from earlier today, wearing the same crochet cardigan as I was when I sat to play guitar in my pyjamas. The flowers in these pictures are on salad plants that stuck around so long we’re letting them go to seed. On days like the one I’ve had as I sit to write this, I doubt the point in any kind of relationship with myself. I doubt that I’ll ever feel content (even though I know I did, earlier this same week). So thank you for being an audience for this post, for giving me an excuse to write it and remind myself of the moments I love.
I know there are many without gardens or guitars, I’d love to recommend pot plants and free music via YouTube, but that doesn’t fix the world’s problems and, if there’s a chance it could help you, you’ve probably thought of it already. So instead I’ll be honest and say it’s just nice to imagine someone reading this. Because, guitar or no guitar, sometimes even the sweetest sunset moments feel lonely.
Until next time 🙂
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