The Photographer (Ignazio Boschetto Fanfiction)

Chapter 45

Chapter 45

          My days turned into a routine of getting up, getting breakfast with Monica and talking to her about my progress, and then leaving in the rental car to go off on my explorations. I always stayed out for several hours, parking the car somewhere and hiking far away and then returning to it. I would return to the huts somewhere between afternoon and evening, exhausted and aching but giddy with excitement and pleased with the day’s work. My photoshoots were amazing, and I was always running and hiking and laughing as I ventured into the hearts of the countries we stayed in. 

          After Mozambique we went to Zimbabwe, and I was learning that all the African countries looked very similar, or at least the ones we were visiting. But they each had something special for me, like Zimbabwe’s breathtaking Victoria Falls, a waterfall that I returned to several times throughout the week we were there to try to capture its beauty.

          I felt as though I was settled in, and it was surprising and unsettling to me that I had already been away from Ignazio for more than two weeks. I had such fond memories from my days with Il Volo, and when things quieted down I liked to go to that place in my mind where I could see the boys again.

          I was still anxious sometimes with the idea of being so far away from them, and sometimes being in Africa reminded me of when I was lost in the Nicaraguan jungle. It was dangerously inviting, both rewarding and terrifying wandering alone through the countries. Like the jungle, Africa separated me from Ignazio, making me so far away from him, only this time I actually was so far away from him! I was missing out on him, and I tried to remind myself that I was living my dream and think instead about the fun I had when I left the community in the mornings.

          I loved going out on the shoots, and I always returned excited and happy, but it bothered me that when I wasn’t going out to get my landscapes, I was doing nothing. My purpose with N.G. was as a photographer, and when I wasn’t doing that there was nothing else for me to do. I felt purposeless whenever things calmed down. With Il Volo, there was always something I could do if I wanted to work, or always someone to talk to if I was content. Here, I quickly grew bored whenever I returned from a shoot, and I tried to deal with the monotony of waiting for the next day.

          I asked Monica frequently about her project, but it quickly became evident to me that I couldn’t be more than a photographer for her. I couldn’t know how she wanted things done, and I couldn’t help more than I was at the risk of making it my project. Monica was the creator and overseer of the project, and she knew exactly how she wanted things to be done, how she wanted the information she was gathering to be put together to provide information about the countries to the world.

          I loved being a landscape photographer, but whenever I stopped, I felt like that was all I was. I was important to the project, but if I left they could always get another landscape photographer. I just wanted more to do. I wondered about where N.G would send me after I finished the assignment in Africa, and I hoped it would be a project I could be more involved with. But I realized as I wondered that that was probably not possible. How could I hope to be more than a N.G. photographer when I was supposed to be just a N.G. photographer? There was so much room in my mind to do more, to be more ambitious, to want more, and so I hung onto the excitement of my landscapes and tried to focus just on that.

          The days of exploration and then boredom continued, and the last country we arrived in was Botswana. I continued my normal routine of waking up, exploring in a whirl of excitement, and then returning to the village and sitting around thinking.

          One day I came home early, in the afternoon, because it had started raining and didn’t stop when I tried to wait it out in the car. I returned to the village and went to my hut where I lay on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the rain and thinking.