I am not a photographer nor am I a model. Neither was my former partner. But later on in life, I discovered that indeed I had an eye for taking photographs. I never understood the desire that friends had for taking photos of everything. And I certainly never thought I would ever host a dinner where I forced guests to sit through my latest thousand photos of my last trip.
Why then do we love to take photos or videos of the men that we fall in love with? I just bought a video recorder so that I could shoot video of my time with my beloved Artem. I guess what had me realize that I wanted to capture his image somewhere external was when he sent me a fresh set of photos from the last shoot he participated in.
You see my Artem is a professional model. The photos are indeed stunning and made me yearn for him even more (we’ll reconnect in a week). But I realized that the only placeholder for his beauty was my mind. Which plays tricks on me. Which distorts his image depending on how I feel about something.
So I now languidly place his countenance in my viewfinder and allow the small video recorder to step up to the task of remembering in 1080i detail every nook and cranny of Artem’s lovely form.
But the video recorder is wholly incapable of recording the most delicate image. That is Artem’s heart and soul which will never be captured by a machine. Instead, it does, indeed only live alongside my heart and soul within me. And that image is one in which I will hold privately throughout the eons of time.