Photography
Being dragged to the “toilet” to vomit is quite embarrassing, even some time after it happened. I felt truly like a child, and I resent it.
There is something much more pressing than my faulty, backfiring spell that caused this glitch in height, however.
“Teach me how to take a picture?”
“Are you sure? I do not want you to throw up again.”
“I am sure.”
And I learn. How to take a picture with both cell phones, how to adjust the settings, what setting to use for what environment or occasion, what to add to the cameras to sharpen the image or make an easier handling should the equipment be available; and, above all, about “photography” itself: the branch – not even an unpopular one – of vocation and hobby which pertains closely to my future report to the Court.
“You would be a good photographer,” Atlanta comments when I show her my latest attempt to take a picture. “You could be an illusionist photographer. Showing people something while it is actually something else, just from a different angle. It is quite awesome!”
My heart falls on the “illusionist” part, and turns baffled on her praise of that.
She is odd.