An old sheet of iron corroded by the inclement action of the sun and the humidity of the rain escorted him. In the middle of the dark earth, she wore her pink beauty, delicate and soft even though the rust of those old sheets lay behind her. Sometimes I wonder if she belonged to that place, if perhaps her mission was to adorn with its colors that sad site or soften with its subtlety the rough iron oxide; or instead, if her place was next to other flowers so and more beautiful than her, what was her place?
That scene seemed insignificant, but, perhaps with that which is invisible to the eyes, I took my camera asking me at the same time what was the essence of that space, what made it so special? I adjusted the focus and exposure manually and pressed the shutter button. I was trying to locate that flower on one of the edges of the photo while my restlessness continued to take shape. I made about 4 or 5 shots and I opted for the one I showed you before. Without a doubt, she was the center of that space.
It only looks good with the heart, the essential is invisible to the eyes.
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.
Where we belong to? It is the big unknown. If that flower had not been there in the middle of that humid environment, would it have had something special? If the flower had been surrounded by many other flowers, how would it have stood out? Or if, on the other hand, I could only photograph an oxidized and abandoned iron, would it make sense to write them today?
Where the flower belongs, maybe you don’t care. But have you ever wondered where do you belong? Are you from a place where everything looks like you? Or one where you can adorn everything with your gifts?
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