I’ve been veering towards photos over words for awhile now. I don’t know when exactly it happened. But it did. I am a wordy person. I like words. I use lots of them. And I have a pretty big vocabulary. And I like to keep it that way. And the best way to keep it that way is to use my words.
But somehow, I like to sit back and let the photo tell the story for me.
Somehow the words don’t seem to matter that much anymore. And yes that sentence did taste like vinegar in my mouth. And it sounds defeatist and sad. But it’s not.
I get emails or messages whenever I do something wrong as a parent. Whether it is a twisted car seat strap, or a cat in the cot or letting the baby eat McDonalds. It’s an occupational hazard.
I was letting Piper drink the last few sips of my cold hot chocolate from Gloria Jeans the other day while standing in the trolley instead of sitting down. At the time I thought I should have taken a photo. I thought of captions ‘baby in unsafe position, swills back on homophobic coffee and probably burns self in process’.
Innocent things get interpreted as minimising the experience of minority groups. Snarky things get misinterpreted as literal. And even when you explain it, it doesn’t really make any difference because people always view things through their own filter. Once you let go of something words or images it is no longer yours.
I admire that the writer of American Pie always refused to explain the meaning of his song.
And I suppose that’s what I’m saying. I love storytelling. I love telling a story through images and wrapping words around that.
But I’m not going to explain the meaning of my song anymore.