She liked taking a walk to work, she always started good hour earlier that gave her the time, to look around enjoy the pace. Each day was like she had only 48 hrs left to live and she spent like she would spend a week-end. After all free time was not really free, it was the most expensive time she had because nobody pays for it she did. But that also made it the most valuable time she had, she wanted to ensure that she alone would stand to reap the profits from spending it wisely.
Mornings it was the wakening vistas, evening it was the people on the street, she walked, she spoke she connected with them. There were few who even let get their pictures.
“If you want something new, you have to stop doing something old” peter had mentioned in one of the mentoring session. For her it happened accidently she had forgotten her camera, and she had used her phone instead, that opened vistas for her. Somewhere it was like that idea map that people had on the panels of their work stations.
As she clicked the tiny green life that emerged from between the tightly cemented payment, she realized that fantasy was not a way to escape from reality but it was a way of understanding. She could feel the water from a down pour seeping slowly through the faults in the pavement instead of bathing the earth like it had done, and one tiny greenery coming to life instead the lush greenery that woke up after the monsoons.
A muse she realized was not a artistic mystery, or a elusive willow wisp, it was a precise mathematical equation, the gift of those images she trapped in her phone, the giver was the one she thought of when she first woke., Muses she realizes were ghosts sometimes they came in uninvited like the little girl who was looking around with wonderment.
That’s when she decided instead of discussing with herself each morning whether she was inspired or not, she slipped on her shoes at 7.45 am, picked up her phone, opened the door and politely invited muse for a walk. Sometimes Muse did come along, many times Muse could never claim she was not invited.
she remembered listening to Walter Isaacson, as he mentioned about Steve Jobs,” when he was turning thirty, Jobs had used a metaphor about record albums. He was musing why folks over thirty developed rigid thought patterns and ten to be less innovative.” People got stuck in those patters just like the grooves, in a record and they never get out of them. at 45 Jobs was about get out of groove. That was precisely it, She thought it was not about getting stuck in the groove, it was like being a tree, a sapling, you could be in the groove, but the winds, the smells they would waft, it was about being aware of the change and capturing that changing moment. Sometimes, these were captured but recognized only later, good that LG Nexus 5x let her use the Google photo file system.
A man Junaide Mustafa said was known by the company of phone he kept. So what did it make her with her LGNexus5x, lightweight phone, did that mean she carried minimum baggage, fingerprint recognition, does that say that she was fiercely private, an ability to click sharp pictures in even in dim lights, did that make her an image trapper or an voyeur? Most fundamentally a sound phone, with dual SIM.
She smiled at her own analysis. she did not need to see her muse, young or old, whimsical or an old woman with a tight bun and spectacle, for her muse was with her, telling her, ”shoot capture the moment.”
Smartphone’s, how they entered our lives, control us with assistance, enough for netiquette to be created to provide guidelines of right and wrong.
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