Photographic Memories

I’ve recently found out that there is a huge dissimilarity between moments and pictures, especially in relation to travelling.


It’s easy to assume they are grouped together as the same thing.

The saying goes “a picture captures a thousand moments” and other certain ways of looking at it can project that they go hand in hand with one another, but, what I am unremittingly learning and growing from is the strong division between the two.



You take pictures with the people you meet, the views you see and the sights you’ve discovered.

You re-visit the moment within your mind because that picture sends you back to when you were on that existing land, that will never be the same as that day you were standing on it and at that living moment, which you will never get back.
Now, it is neatly framed on a mantelpiece to be a depiction of who you once were and what you have done, a picture that becomes a visual memory of a good time of your life.


But a moment is this funny thing, that not everyone can see.

You can explain with the most eccentric, vivid imagination possible, capturing peoples interest within your story, but still, your audience will not be able to grasp the full extremity of the moment you had, because only you have the key to living it visually.

Moments are when you go to reach for your camera and your fingers linger along the lens.

You weigh up how much you need this picture for everyone else to appreciate and how much you know as soon as it’s taken, the uniqueness and sincerity of the situation you are thriving in will lose a little of its sparkle.

I love taking pictures and I know I take far too many for the desire to post them on social media, especially now, having done this blog, I need it to be able to keep you all updated with the life list accomplishments.
But, as time has progressed through travelling, there have been so many moments where I’ve looked around and just smiled with how happy I am in that exact time frame and contemplated taking a picture, sometimes I do and sometimes I just stop myself and take it in.



It sounds so silly, but the majority of captured moments I have to show people back home are mainly the ones when I’m alone, I suppose I feel the need to take a picture to remember the moment more so when I’m alone, because it fills the time and it’s down to me to have the recollection of that place.
I have met so many amazing people along the way, the majority of which I never got a picture with, but my mental pictures will always stay stronger than the ones on my camera for sure.



The thing about travelling is, it does make you such a clique person.
They say you learn a lot when you travel and annoyingly the typical “finding yourself” becomes something you’re on a quest to achieve.

I hate it when people ask if I am travelling so I can find myself, I find it outright insulting that they presume I don’t know who I already am.

We are all aware of who we are, but when you travel you don’t find who you have always meant to be, you awaken a side of you that has spent so long sleeping.

The spontaneity and adventure, which got used to being absent in order for you to deliver high performance in your 9-5 job, relationship and same weekends spent with friends down the pub, celebrating that you have got through another gruelling week of “life”. The love that you felt for new things, had been over-ridden with the moaning of everything that goes wrong and the fear for trying out new achievements due to opinions from others.

You don’t find yourself, you wake yourself up.


It means you explore with the meaning to become lost.
Your love grows from the idea of loving one person exclusively, to all the people you meet, you live a little more in colour with the bravery you gain, you eat without the worry of calorie counting and you run for the fact you’re enjoying the freedom your knees allow, not the mileage you’re achieving or inches your losing.

You get the tattoo’s your mum cursed you against, because why not, a permanent memory of an unforgettable journey.


You drink in the cool places and sometimes the awful cheap hostels, you speak to the English that group together for comfort when you’re missing home, but you also always sign language with the people who don’t speak a word in your language, because you want to learn.
You go to the touristy attractions to tick them off your life list, you see so many museums that they all blur into one.
You start writing about your trip, like everyone else does.
Your childhood thoughts and dreams creep back in, bold and vivaciously.
You do everything that everyone associate’s with “the travelling person.”

It’s a journey of recognition, you activate deeper thinking and additional meaning to what you want from your life.

You travel to expose your mind, to discover new cultures, new prospects, new people.
You travel to let be what will be and let go of the need to control.
You travel to hearten new passions to seep into your soul and set you ablaze with joy.
You travel to see some of the utmost beautiful, hypnotizing parts of the world that most people think is perfectly ok to grasp from google images.
You travel because, in nothing but a clique way, it really does ignite who you sincerely are, re-evaluating who you can be and what you’ve always been capable of.
You learn not to give a damn about the mundane drags but gain focus for what you honestly care for.
You learn to dismiss the guidelines of judgment and supply so much love in replacement.

Like anything in life, you have the pros and cons of what you decide to do within it and even though it’s classed as a constant positive experience, travelling definitely holds a two-sided story too.

You have rubbish days where you miss home and the life you had, of course you do.
You feel lost with where you are in life, resulting in the hesitance of everything you gave up to be here.
You can spend days being completely alone and feeling like you hate your own company, hoping and praying you meet the solid friends that everyone else seems to meet on their travels.
But, give it a few days, even a few hours and you are enthralled in the countryside or buzzing cities, exploring, seeing, feeling, living and it just all makes sense again.


And that’s when I realised the difference between the two.
Pictures are for sharing, moments are for keeping.  


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