I think that lately I've forgotten the pleasure that taking a photograph can contain, the capturing of an intimate or memorable moment in time to treasure forever. It should not be a laborious task, an agonising over composition and light and all the factors that it takes to make a photograph, but an instinctive reaction, a glance through the lens and pressing of the shutter and then treasuring whatever comes back from the processors, whether or not its perfectly sharp or nicely white balanced. Over the past few weeks I've felt my enjoyment waning, taking it all too seriously and beating myself up when I don't like what I see, trying to force the moment rather than let it happen. From today I will turn over a new leaf and remember the joys of taking a photograph, and hopefully, possibly, take a few shots that I can cherish until my dying day...
(Sorry if this is a little over sentimental/outright cheesy, I think I just had to come out and say it... This post was in some way inspired by this person, whose photography I'd forgotten I liked so much.)
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