The Girl With The Pictures On The Wall by T. Riley
Photographs...the tangible evidence of momentary occurrences in life.
Within its capacity it holds a thousand words. I held in my capacity a thousand photos and all their words. Bounded within the yellow trimmed boarders of a magazine is where they spoke from. As a girl, I’d remove the pages to display them on my walls. Though they held value and perfection being kept away between sheets of words and science, their stories seemed more real upon the walls of my bedroom. In a way, I felt my walls could truly talk. They spoke many different things to me. Some versed great pride and endurance while others said nothing, but would carry emotions the equivalent of a thousand pounds.
I was a student of their stories, whether a heavy frown of a hungry man in Nepal or the dance and sway of a Turk. Their words never went mute and they all spoke in different languages, the best language amongst them all was that of optimism. Keep pushing and going forward no matter the circumstance or corner of the earth. I’m no longer the girl who stands center in the room with all those pictures, all those people and things they say. I’m a woman, in a world full of people, not in pictures but continuously moving and changing. Their stories and their words can be heavy or light and what they say to me is always unpredictable.
I don’t understand completely why I put those pictures on the wall. But I sometimes wish four walls would come rising up out of the earth covered in prints of the very same pictures. Then, I would be encouraged and happy like the young girl I once was.