Picturesque

Chapter XV - Photographic Conundrum

My soul felt like it was in a requiem, to think that a part of me wanted to venture into a forgotten cavern. Although Photojournalism played an essential role in my journalistic stint, I already lost my shutter touch. Thus, I was always afraid of the idea to participate in any similar competition. And if ever, it will be my first time to chip in such event.

I looked back in time when my shutter touch went astray. After Bernadette left me, I immediately dropped and completely left it offset – focused myself exclusively on my forte. If it wasn’t for my passion, I would’ve gone crazier. Every one of us were once lost – but I was banished.

As I took a ride on my way to school, my mind was afloat – totally torn if I was to choose Photojournalism or a different event instead. Completely knotty, I sought for signs. This time, I’m leaving it up to Him so I could select my third event wisely. It didn’t take long until I saw a couple taking a selfie as our bus passed by the town proper.

“Okay. That was quick,” I thought. “One more. That might have been just a coincidence.”

After a few more blocks, our bus got ahead of a student taking a photo of a tall tree using his DSLR.

I swigged, “One last.”

Finally, as I got off the bus, our school’s Guidance Counselor was taking an image of the gate upfront.

“Alright. I get it,” I said. “Thank you for giving me the signs.”

Amusingly, I immediately saw Ma’am Merl holding an old-looking DSLR on her way to the security office. As soon as she spotted me, the old woman looked like she was relieved – which I realized why as she started talking to me.

“Good Lord!” she acclaimed. “I was actually about to go to the security office to call me as soon as they see you coming. Well, they don’t have to since you’re already here.”

I began to smirk, “W-what does that have to do with me? Did I do something wrong?” I played a fool.

“You bastard! I want you to take a picture of that building under construction near our front gate.”

“W-why me? What about our photojournalists?”

“Do they look like they’re here?”

I scratched my head as I looked around. “Obviously.”

“Stop procrastinating and do as I tell you!”

“I’m not procrastinating!”

“HA-HA-HA!” she bellowed. “Here, take this,” she said while handing me the DSLR along with its bag.

“Do I have any choice?”

For the first time in five years, I held a professional camera again. It wasn’t the newest and best-looking camera, but it felt gracious. As I began to play around with it, something crossed my mind.

“I-is this another sign?”

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“I miss him, Ma.”

“B-but sweetheart. You know what you just did to him, right?”

“Is there any way we can make him come back to me?”

Her mom bowed her head, “I-I really don’t know, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t mean everything I have said and done to him,” Angel murmured as she started crying.

“My sweetheart, you have been crying for the past three days. Please,” her mom wept.

“I want him back, Ma. Do something!”

“I-I’m afraid I can’t.”

She turned away from her mom as she whimpered harder. All the memories that we had were stuck in her phone’s gallery. As her tears flowed from her swollen eyes to her salty-wet pillow, she anxiously scrolled through the photographs we took together. From the short-lived, sweetest memories to the not-so-good ones, the images she kept painfully reminded her of our relationship. A few days have elapsed but she already realized her shortcomings. After all, she just badly wanted me to come back.

She dropped her phone out of dismay. “What have I done?”

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I started to feel frustrated because it has been ten minutes but I still have not found a great angle yet. The shots I captured seemed as if they were taken by a second grade. Out of dissatisfaction, I deleted all the ones I shot. After the last photo was deleted, the pictures stored in the camera appeared. I scratched my head, didn’t even realize that there were saved photos in it.

It poked my inquisitiveness so I decided to scan its gallery. To my surprise, the shots weren’t really as great as I could have imagined. Something was missing from them. Although, Ma’am Merl shown nothing but praise to our photojournalists, saying that they were really keen and objective. I saw no keenness nor objectivity from the photos.

But, what was really missing? I began to ask myself, not noticing that I already skimmed through the entire gallery thrice already. My frustration grew further as I could not even find an answer to my own question. What was lacking? Why was it that they found superb angles to take the photos, but they still looked as if the subject was dead. They also considered the lighting correctly, there weren’t any literal gray area from the images. I looked at it closer – still, I found nothing.

Since my annoyance escalated, I decided to take a breather. I went to the smoking area a few blocks away from school, lit my cigarette and started to assault myself with questions.

“Why the fuck can’t I find out what’s wrong with them? This is what I am afraid of,” I intensely uttered. “Now, I’m starting to look crazy talking to myself.”

I took my hankie out of my right back pocket, wiped my sweat from my face and neck, and then put it back in. The angst began to swallow my senses. As I tried to ponder it, the more it felt difficult. After I finished, I slowly walked back to school. While I was on my way, I saw the store lady smiling at me.

“Hey, don’t move,” I told the store lady.

“Alright,” she continued smiling.

I turned the camera on, adjusted the lenses, ducked down a bit and clicked the shutter.

“Holy macaroni—“