I've been thinking lately about the images that most frequently appear here from our life abroad. Generally, the backdrop is our colorful apartment with its western decor and uncommon rugs. Our house is a little piece of home for us. It was drawn with intention for the refreshment of our family and the nurturing of our little people.
But on most days, at least to some extent, we venture from these walls into another world. It's a world that I find both captivating and harrowing. It is both beautiful and down right filthy. It's a world that very often makes me want to seize a camera and capture. But I rarely do, for a number of reasons.
1. My hands are usually quite full of little people. (Which I might add is much sweeter than the fullness of a camera:)
2. We try to travel light. No car of our own means what we take, we carry...in stores and out of stores, in rickshaws and beyond. My camera of choice is a Canon SLR. It doesn't fit in with lightweight.
3. We are a parade. Everywhere we go, people stare a bit. Sometimes they just plain gawk. Other times they approach for pinches. We don't exactly keep a low profile. Add a large and in charge camera to that and we just might become a circus.
4. I feel invasive. My love for photography has yet to overcome my introvert propensity for privacy and personal space. I need it. And I instinctively desire it for others. The near constant cell-phone photography of my own littles by locals is wearing away at that slowly though:)
Last week I downloaded a little app to that leftover device a friend gave us before we left. It has become our essential language recorder, Jude's favorite Angry Birds companion...and now, I hope, a mini-camera to capture a few out-side-our-walls images on a more frequent basis. If they're blurry and off kilter, excuse them. They were probably snapped from a moving rickshaw or on a bustling street while I dodged motorcycles.