Sometimes it’s all too much. You’ve got thousands of them and your head spins thinking about the sheer number of them and what to do with them, and why in the world do you even have them, keep them?
Thousands of what, you ask? Photos. Pictures. Snapshots. Clogging your computer, your jump drives, your old CDs, and, of course, littering cyberspace. I was going through my photos the other day, the ones taken in all those exotic expat and travel locations I have graced with my presence. Pictures of things and people I would never have encountered had I stayed put where I was spawned, which is the Netherlands, the country that’s number four on the list of the happiest people in the world. This is neither here not there, but I thought I’d throw it in here for the heck of it.
Where was I? Oh, yes, photos. What to do with them? Who will ever want to look at all that flotsam and jetsam once I depart to the afterlife? Well, maybe you do – just a few. Really, just a few. Like this one for instance, taken a few years ago in Albania.
My prince and I were invited to lunch in a small village house. I loved that old stove, and the contrast of the modern remote control snoozing next to the olives on the table.
Last year in Turkey, on a little boat cruise, I was charmed by a bunch of butts. You never know, do you, what might catch your fancy?
Why do I take pictures like that? Who knows. I didn’t know these people from Adam, but I liked the various shapes and lines on this picture, including the red life preservers.
Just a couple of weeks ago I found this intriguing sign in a bathroom at a rest stop along one of America’s main highways and felt perversely compelled to snap it.
Now you tell me, who flushes jeans down a toilet?
One time while living in Armenia my man and I were invited to a birthday party in a village. There was much eating and drinking and toasting, as they do with much enthusiasm over there in the Caucasus Mountains, and it was all very fun and entertaining. The mother had created a special birthday cake in the shape of the country, Armenia, even showing Lake Sevan in the center. She asked me to take a picture of it. I did, and here it is now lounging in my photo files of many wonders.
The sweet shape of Armenia
I seldom take photos of people unless it’s clear that they don’t mind. This man was asleep and I sneaked up on him. It was taken in Ecuador in South America, where we vacationed for a few weeks to see if we might want to live there in the future.
Below another picture taken in Albania. You go to a country and who knows what you end up seeing; it’s not always in the guide books, trust me. Here I was, walking around in an olive curing barn (shed, building) and what did I see? Lots of olives, for sure, but then my eye caught a hole in the wall. And the view through it. So I took a few pictures from different angles. Other people take pictures of the Taj Mahal or the Pyramids. I take a pictures of a hole in a wall. Maybe something is wrong with me.
We loved going to the beach when we lived in Ghana, West Africa. Coconut palms, drinks brought to your lounger, golden sand, lobster for dinner. Get the picture?
So I took a picture of a fishing net. How could I resist? Now this image is hanging out in my computer somewhere, taking up space.
I’ll stop here. Trust me I have thousands more like it. Clearly, I am not talking here of family photos which might be interesting for later generations. (I’m getting a lot of fun out of old photos from past generations of my family. No, I won’t show them to you.) I’m talking about the useless products of my just-for-the-fun-of-it happy-snapping.
So, should I just stop my photo-littering, stop clogging the environment with my junk photos? Sadly, it’s too late for me. I’m addicted. I’ll just keep snapping.
* * *
