*Click*

A two syllable (three at the most) word that holds so much more importance than you would attribute it considering its meager phonetic roots. But no one I believe, dares undervalue a good (or bad) photograph these days.

Photos are everything. They’re proof, they’re nostalgia, they’re pride, they’re shame, they’re weapons, they’re embarrassment, they’re blackmail and more often than not they’re worth a thousand words.

I must say that up until a few years ago (a.k.a in Sharu’s world as two years. Max.) I would always end up making myself look like a total buffoon in any photographs that I accidentally happened to get caught in (sometimes voluntarily but mostly involuntarily). I have since learned a few tricks that have helped me become less conscious but sometimes I revert back to old Shar and I am once again nervous and sweaty and end up looking either constipated or murderous (surprisingly how similar these two emotions look on my face).

It makes me nostalgic to think of all those times that I would run and assault anybody who had a camera and literally snatch it from them. Then I’d refuse to relinquish control while regretting every minute I spent behind my little pseudo-purdah. I didn’t realize until much later that “GOD it doesn’t matter”! Who gives a flying fuck how you look in a photograph as long as you’re there and it reminds you of something special. And trust me; people who take pleasure in pointing out your ‘retard’ moments caught on film are probably crumbling from the inside out owing to a string of insecurities. One point where I do draw the line is putting up ghastly photos on social networking sites. I mean, there’s a difference between not really caring and really bloody asking for it!

Nowadays I’d still prefer to be the one behind my camera but for totally different reasons. It’s because I have a certain affinity for candid shots of my subjects so that the instant I see it in the future it becomes a story of sorts within one single photograph. (“oh look, I’m angry here because you refused to smile just so” and “she’s running past because she’d just stolen his favourite undies” and “doesn’t he look like he wants to kill her?!” etc, etc.)

But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to be in a fair share of the photos either. Cheers to being a braver me than old me!! \m/