There is also something amusingly human about how we treat the people dearest to us. We can spend hours talking, laughing, interrupting one another, catching up on years compressed into an evening — and still forget to take a photo. We remember to photograph food, desserts, shoes, sunsets, and occasionally our own faces from suspiciously flattering angles. But the people who matter most? Somehow we forget. Perhaps that is because when we are truly present, documentation becomes secondary. We are too busy living the moment to archive it. Too engaged in laughter to arrange ourselves into rows. Too occupied with real connection to say, “Wait, everyone freeze and look natural.” Still, I am grateful that just before the last group of guests left, I managed to capture one photo. One frame. One small evidence that on this particular night, these people were here, healthy, laughing, alive, together. Years from now, when memory softens at the edges, that photograph will remain firm. To read more, go over to www.adijamaludin.com http://dlvr.it/TSHvt5
