today was:

the fragile, split-second feel of yet another bike encounter that left me shaken and smiling

it's windy out, the cliche but familiar and comforting smell of freshly cut grass is a new addition to my commute, and the wind blows my skirt across my knees, i reach down with my left hand to smooth it, the guy next to me has his headphones on and - maybe he wasn't paying attention, maybe the wind gave him a gentle nudge, probably a bit of both - his handlebars lock into mine - i gasp, but my left hand's stuck in my lap and i feel myself begin to swerve but my split-second reflexes (where did these come from?!) mean that my right hand pulls my bike back and i grab onto the guy's arm for dear life with my left. i don't let go until i'm good. 'shit!' he says, removing the headphones. 'sorry!' in english. we meet again at the red light 30 feet down the road, my heart-rate is practically tripping over itself, trying to process. 'shit,' he says again, shaking his head. 'i'm sorry.' english - the language of apologies. i smile and shrug. it'd be a different ending if it had ended differently, but, you know, this morning it turned out alright.

an email from the faculty whom I went abroad with in the spring of 2011, written in his short, measured style, and it felt like a warm hug, happiness that will spread through my being slowly and last with me for at least a day or two

and in part it felt like a call to arms, as i pored over some of the photography done both in his classes at carleton and while abroad. at times i hated going abroad with a camera. to me it signaled Tourist, Student, someone who Did Not Live Here. i tried to conceal myself and my camera when i was out, tried to become invisible. most days, i believe i lacked the energy and confidence to achieve full potential.

and yet, when i took the damn thing out, i invariably almost always got a great shot, and the resulting endorphins made me feel like a lion on the hunt. and yet, when i took the damn thing out, what resulted was greater contact with my environment. conversations with strangers, foreigners, locals. smiles. a feeling of belonging. most times it's a door, not a wall.

oh, we vacillate between photography capturing the only true moment and photography completely obscuring the true experience of the moment, and i did too. what if i don't remember the place, and can only construct my memories in photographs? but what if i don't push myself to capture my space in the world in the way that only i can?

i need the camera right now. i live here. i've saved 9 months of memories, anyway. copenhagen is both going nowhere right now and over in a second. and i have 9 months to go. i can give in to photography. it's scary when you begin to pick it up again, after sliding into a cozy, black-clad existence where the slight language understanding and attention to dress means you don't stand out as much, and you wear it as a little badge, but how favorably i look upon those three months when everything was processed through a lens, and i both hid behind it and brandished it.