“Even through the lens of an old heart, there's still
something worth seeing.”
This morning it was just a seagull sitting on a piling —
quiet, still, not doing anything spectacular — and yet… something in it asked
me to stop. To see it. To save it.
I don't always know why I take a picture. I just do.
Something stirs and tells me, this moment matters.
Some days I wonder if anyone really notices. I spend time
choosing a photo, reading through dozens of quotes until one feels like it
belongs — sometimes for me, sometimes because I feel someone out there needs
it. And just when I start to think maybe none of it really matters, someone
will comment, “Thank you — I needed that.” And then I remember… maybe this is
exactly what I’m supposed to do.
Yes, I want people to see my pictures — but more than that,
I want them to feel what I felt when I stood there looking at it. I want them
to know that there’s still beauty in the little things. That someone still
believes in slowing down to notice them.
There’s a part of my heart — old as it may be — that’s still
soft. Still full of wonder. Still beating for something.
Maybe that’s why I keep getting up each morning.
Krebs Lake, Pascagoula
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