breathe.

you breathe in.

your chest rises. the air enters your lungs and lingers for the briefest moment. your chest cavity expands to make way for more oxygen. the air leaves your lungs as quickly as it had made its way in. you let go, and for a moment, you suddenly realize you are breathing. the thought doesn't escape your mind as you continue to control your breathing consciously for the next few seconds, or even minutes. and then it returns back to normal. your body goes on auto-pilot mode, and it breathes again, without having to think.

it's instinctive.

you walk. for each step you take, you move forward. you travel the paths taken by so many people everyday; to work, to school, to home. behind the camera lens, you are invisible. you are no longer you, but an artist of precision; of compositions and colours, contrasts and chemistry--you are connecting the dots with your photographs. you capture moments people have never bothered slowing down to look so closely, you immortalize bits and pieces of time that sometimes seem so trivial, so ordinary, but when you put in on film and print it out, someone will notice the subtle beauty you have trapped in the photograph. you are a magician, a wizard, imprisoning the tiniest speck of life from souls within a piece of paper. you don't just take pictures, you take lives. 

it's like breathing, really.

you take a deep breath as you hold your camera close to your face, your eye looking through the viewfinder with wonder and excitement, knowing--and sometimes, not knowing--that this will be a great shot. maybe not every photograph will be a piece of magnificent art, but it will be precious memories to you, that you had been out there, documenting your life and the ones who matter so much to you. in that, you found joy. you found satisfaction. you found a sort of feeling so indescribable, that it could only be achieved when you click the shutter release button and--well, there's simply nothing like it. 

you breathe out.