@omhye
tropical nights always brought along his long-lost friend who’d only visit him during the buzzes of mosquitos, hymns of crickets, and of course, the unendurable hot spell perpetually around 35ºC in seoul. he, however, regardless of his helpless insomnia– always loved summer. sun seemed to be less hasty about dipping down the horizon, which made him feel like his days were just a bit more everlasting and worthwhile.
through the frustrated pillow-throwing and squirms of the night, you now see the boy stepping out of his studio apartment with those honorable battle scars. itchy and vexing to say the least, but he deals with it. early summer mornings were just a bit more forgiving with its flitting coolness under the branches of white oaks and pine trees, making him less sulky about his mere three hours of sleep last night. by the time he’s reached the four-way street he’s wittingly guided himself through, however, the tickles on his forearm and neck are already long forgotten.
through the viewfinder, he intends to capture anything and everything that will get his flow going for the day: a younger mother with her son’s tiny hand in hers. the boy skips over puddles of water made from sprinklers, tittering through his wobbly jumps that put a warm smile on the mother’s face. skyler lingers for just a little longer, his index finger resting on the shutter release without committing to anything. when he shifts his view over to the cross street, he finally presses and his beloved camera whirls– but oh, who’s this girl that perfectly completes the composition?
their eyes meet (well, her eyes meet his lens to be exact, but you get the idea–) and he lowers down the camera to awkwardly stare at her. she seems to be now walking towards him, and oh god, the boy hasn’t a smidgen of idea on what to do. so he silently waits in his place, his camera against his lower chest.
and if you think it’s shaking, you’re probably just imagining it.
