When I wake, I wake by the brook

I bought film yesterday, put it in the Minolta SRT 101, then I went outside. I saw my cats by the flowers and noticed the feel of the breeze in my hair, the sun on my skin. Everything was golden and ethereal. I walked along the path and down the stone steps, feeling as though I was walking on a cloud. Or floating.

I walked through Bunya and photographed the time, that moment. I felt like I was documenting history through a lens of beauty before taking away the filter of the camera lens and realising that the beauty was ever-existing. I was the lens, it was my state of mind that made things appear beautiful.

Or rather, the pure outlook, without the clutter of depression. I don't know what it was, maybe a combination of things, all chance, all part of the butterfly effect, but whatever it was, yesterday I felt warm, happy, beautiful and natural. Nothing mattered because life was art.
On another, note, yesterday evening I lay on my floor in my bedchamber and it occured to me that I had to make a movie or else deny my love.