23 September 2005

Mental Snapshot

Each evening after dinner, I hold a teacup in my right hand and rest my face against the warm cup. My left arm rests on the table, my right elbow on the table supporting my teacup lean. The warmth is pleasant, varying on how much tea I've drunk, almost too warm if I’ve just gotten a refill. This tired self is an image I enjoy though I only see it in blurred form if the curtains for the sliding glass door are open. At times it’s a mournful picture of resolute exhaustion, at others it’s just post-dinner calm, some warmth on my cheek.

It’s a photo I always think of taking, a moment I’d like to capture, but the light is too dark. My mental snap is surely more flattering and clear than the underexposed reenactment I could shoot. Leaping around the table to sit and get ready before a timer clicked off would not be restful but full of adrenaline: a twitchy fabrication.

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