Fuzzy Little Butterfly.

mainevinton131

I made this image months ago, and there it sat, without so much as a one star rating, in a folder on my hard drive. It was a swing and a miss, a photograph I had zero intentions to edit, dust and share. Yet, five months later, scrolling through old files, it stopped me in my tracks. Suddenly, I related to this fleeting moment. I had since had experiences that caused these symbols to resonate on an emotional level within my soul.

I like to write before I leave; oftentimes my thoughts are swirling around begging to be written down and remembered, reflected upon after a trip is said and done. Tomorrow I board a plane to Phoenix, and up until seeing that little yellow butterfly hadn’t given it much extra thought. The trip didn’t even seem real until about three hours ago when, for the first time in weeks, I got the chance to sit down and breath. I thought about cactuses, grad school and the desert, I thought about a little yellow butterfly, out of focus and fleeing from the frame. I thought about me.

I am so blurry, racing in a million directions; not even the quickest shutter speed could freeze my actions. I am running  away, but I am frozen in time, stuck in a place I am desperately trying to leave. Life is crazy and hard, but I am determined to remember this me, this fuzzy little butterfly, fairly fresh to the game, one foot off the ground in a leap of faith. Nothing too terribly exciting on the surface but upon further examination the turning point, the start of something new, something great, something exciting. There are so many unknowns and not a single guarantee. It begins in Arizona, a new state, a new me.

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