The more pictures I take, the more am I surprised by my taste. Is it even a taste if you like things that are broken, or does it mirror my character, because in real life I fight frantically for the underdog, the broken ones, the forgotten, the minorities, the overlooked, the misjudged.
I assume I am one of them. The outcast, the loner, the young orphan, the childless woman, the foreigner, the one with an accent, the one who speaks up when she knows better?
The scars life gives people and things. Why not capture them as drag them into the limelight?
The ones that were loved but are now forgotten. I find more and more, wherever I go. Instead of focusing on the beauty around me, I find myself searching for things out of perspective and I am having so much fun paying attention to things I would have normally overlooked.
Broken, dysfunctional or fitting in?
Society is harsh, humans are cruel. No matter if you are a living creature or a once adored toy, or a piece of luxury we once bought because it made our life more beautiful, colorful -but not for long.
When we get older and function slower when the shine and the polish are brutally removed by age. When some things should be replaced or don’t function anymore the way they should.
Does that make us less worthy?
Useful and useless pieces, side by side adored until they start to get old, perhaps even break a litte or show blemishes.
When we get older and function slower, when the shine and the polish is brutally removed by age, when some things should be replaced or don’t function anymore the way they should. Out with the old, in with the new.
Am I weird if I find the broken sometimes more interesting?