There's a day when you leave home, on the way to another story, and your life changes forever.
It changes the moment you don't die for a fraction of two seconds.
It changes from the moment you realize that death is real and doesn't happen only to others. That comes so many times in an unexpectedly and unfairly way.
It changes because you know you've had the hell of a luck to continue on the surface and not a few palms under the floor that you keep treading on every day.
Life's irony is to know that death was so close when you were on your way to a party to celebrate life!
I read it as a sign! That fear is not the insecurity to take a chance, that fear is not to jump without the certainty on the ground underfoot, that fear is not the fear of failing or of not doing so well. Fear is another feeling. That hits and bewilders you, which makes you feel to look like a movie the image you have just witnessed live and in color. Fear was what I felt when I discovered that I didn't die this time. This time, the chosen one was other.
We talk about it yet, too much, almost every day.
The noise. That green thing coming from nowhere, spinning out of control in the air and falling a few feet ahead of us. Pieces of plastic, rails, rubber flying in every direction. A dented roof in a big fall against the floor. The noise of the contact with the floor. That broken car that didn't hit us because it was not meant to be. The airbags inflated out of what, a few minutes ago, was a couple of windows.
The fear! Of looking. Of knowing.
The mind focused on the questions about "exact location", "number of victims", "need for extrication".
Today I'm still alive.
I could write about beautiful sessions and this passion for photography or even about the desire to change everything and start over. A new adventure with other stories.
But I decided to write only about the life that is still mine! And the will to live it!
Up there, to the one who looks, follows and protects, thank you!
I'm still alive.