This week’s photo challenge asks that we look at the world through our own specific lens, that we try to communicate to others the way our own brains, eyes and souls see the world – and how our hand-eye coordination works (or doesn’t work) to translate that vision.
Personally, I’m always drawn to an unexpected perspective, an odd detail, a quirky juxtaposition. This photo, taken in the Italian countryside on a hot summer walk, came as a surprise. I was walking alone along a path that linked one lovely decrepit villa (the one we had rented) to another, alone, with my camera.
I wandered over a few hills and around some curves, but I wasn’t feeling inspired. I was overheated and thirsty. The landscape was lovely and classically Italian, but there was nothing to really focus on. I followed the path down a hill and I began hearing distant voices. If there were other people about, they would be the first I’d seen on my walk.
It was only after the first cyclist rolled past, high above me, almost invisible through the tall grass, that realized there was a separate bike trail, some 12 feet above me and meandering through the same hilly countryside. I was able to catch one shot of the second cyclist, before they disappeared and I was left alone again with the grass and the occasional cypress tree.
I love the oddness of the tiny cyclist with the large grass fronds in the foreground. I kept waiting to try to create a better version, but no one else appeared.