During the winter of 2011, I told I friend that I liked the cold. Having studied at Scotland previously and working at Northern Ireland then, she said I was crazy. She's right. During the most recent winter, I couldn't wait for Spring to come. As much as snow is beautiful, I was hoping that it wouldn't snow at all. I just wanted winter to pass by as soon as possible. I had enough of having to stay under my duvet because my room is too cold for comfort, or to attempt writing my coursework whilst dressed in 4-5 layers, along with gloves and hat in my room. So much for liking the cold. The closure of the school libraries, signalling the end of my source of reliable heating and wifi, had the following effect (taken from #SeniorThesisProblems):
As of now, I find myself sitting comfortably in a temperature I had previously sought to escape from. Although the humidity and heat in Singapore is not the most comfortable, I would rather live in it it than the cold damp subzero weather of UK during winter. It did cross my mind a few times: how did I ever like the cold? I suppose it was the sense of excitement, curiosity and amazement to a new environment back then. What more, I couldn't wait to get away from Singapore back then - even contemplated on not coming back during the summer of 2012. There was a keen sense of exploration within me back then and I enjoyed, even feasted on, what the new environment in the UK offered. Many new experiences, even if simple, was fascinating: the sky turning dark at 4pm during winter, the birth of life in Spring, the blossoms, the bluebells etc. I recall sitting by the window in my hall for an hour, waiting for the moon to rise above the nearby hill so that I can capture it as it rose near Cabot tower. Taking walks and photographs of my surroundings were frequent occurrences.
However, with the passage of time, I gradually settled into my new environment and started losing that sense of curiosity. Even before breathtaking landscape, I seemed to have lost that sense of wonder and amazement. I felt that this was quite telling from the photos that I took - they lacked a feel to it. Almost bland and shallow - soul-ess photos. Due to various reasons, my Fuji S5 Pro left my hands soon after the start of my third year. I was without a camera for half a year. It was a good thing I suppose - I started learning to appreciate things (in general), to feel the essence of certain things; blue skies and sunsets started becoming more than photography opportunities once more (of which I have somewhat lost my connection with it as well).
Like how I pondered and mused about why I should be writing, it was extended to the taking of photos as well despite my getting of a new camera a few months back. A few nights ago, I wandered out to a seaside near my place. It has been my place of escape ever since I came back and I wanted to try taking some photos of the night scene. There was no explanation for the feeling of wanting to take the photos; it was just that sort of feeling that compels you to do something: like how I will try to play Bach's violin sonatas and partitas at times though I never fail to butcher. Anyhow, the photos turned out to be a surprise and I was somewhat inspired to take photos once more (strange as it sounds). I thought the photo (un-brilliant as it might be) captured the confluence of the various, if not slightly contradicting feelings contained within me.
Perhaps, this may be a small stepping stone towards acquiring a curious and creative mind once more. As what C.S. Lewis' wrote in The Great Divorce:
"No. You're forgetting," said the Spirit. "That was not how you began. Light itself was your first love: you loved paint only as a means of telling about light."
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