and then I saw her


My morning wasn't going to plan at all and it sucked and wasn't life shit and oh I'm so annoyed now. And then I saw her.
I was walking fast, almost as fast as my thoughts and my anger and my now ruined mood for the day. And then I saw her.
I was sporting a frown as deep as a 100-year-old farmer's wrinkles in a black and white photo. And then I saw her.

She was 6, or maybe 7, it was hard to tell. She was walking to school holding her Mother's hand and listening intently to something she was telling her. She was wearing a cute crocheted white beanie and a thick wool coat, it was a cold morning. And she had a tube coming out of her child nose, taped to her little girl's face with a piece of white tape and disappearing into the back of her coat as if to hide something that was in full view. 

I cried. All of the sudden. Without warning. As if the tears had been shaken out of me in one burst. 

Forgotten things on a good Friday morning which I was working hard at, and succeeding in, ruining.

And then I saw her.

I had a quick second between seeing her and those first tears. A precious second in which to smile at her because smiling makes the world go round. If only I could remember it more often. A true smile which clears your head and your frowns and your soul and makes the sun shine inside. The only smile worth sharing, a sun-giving smile.

Such a powerful thing to hold on to and cherish and nourish. 






  1. 24 March 2016 / 00:04

    This particular post of yours touches me deeply, for more than one reason.
    Thank you, dearest Joey, as always, for sharing, for this great reminder
    that sometimes we just have to change our point of view.
    It’s one of the best lessons photography taught me
    and what I try to master now
    in my creative artwork
    and in life.

  2. 7 April 2016 / 13:49

    Thank you, sweet Elke.
    And thank you for sharing a bit of your journey and change of perspective… it’s such a powerful thing, perspective!
    Much love to you!

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