When different lights change how you see things as different pursuits blend into each other and become a measure of life

This week has just about flown by and left me knackered. I swear I haven't even noticed days going by until yesterday as I was picking up my son from school and made some comment about how it was already thursday and he noticed how the week had sped by us. I don't even seem to remember half my days, or having done my usual chores, or even what I had for dinner in the first two days of this week. I have been living inside a sort of a shell, numb to the outside world.

As you might remember, I set myself a goal for the writing of a mystery novel, as anounced here. My twenty five days are rapidly dwindling, and as I sit each day, I find myself closer to finishing, being just short of a couple of chapters until I can write down those ominous words, The End. And these past twenty one days I have breathed, dreamt, eaten and lived this novel. Twenty one days gone by already, and I find myself jotting down the final two chapters as we speak, and feeling a sense of overwhelming achievement.

I am aware I was obsessing far too much with the writing of it, so last weekend I forced myself to stay clear of it, focusing my thoughts - to no good avail - on other ventures. I cooked, I styled, I photographed for the blog. I played with light and colour, as you can see in these photos, using different hours of the day on which to shoot the same subjects, as a way to keep my head clear and on other matters, trying to spur my creativity in all areas and not just the one.

What I mostly wanted to achieve with this set of images, was the notion of how things will look different when seen under different lighting conditions. It is such a metaphor for life, in the end, if you come to think about it! This light pineapple pudding, seen under the golden light of sunset, has a dreamy quality to it, and the power to take me away to a time long gone, making me think of days of yore, days I was never privy to, as I had not been born yet.

The way the yellowy sunlight seems to drip over the white marble, tainting the silver spoon gold, enhancing the soft buttery colour of the pudding, gives out a feeling another light set would not be able to convey. It's lusher, more sensuous, perhaps even sensual, a dessert that is seen under this golden light. It drives the mind to specific thoughts and awakes in the soul specific feelings.

And isn't that the way we all perceive life? Under different lightings? One day we may regard our world under the cold light of a dreary Winter morning, with the sky a bruise of darkened clouds that shower rain upon us non stop, blurring the scenery, making everything grey and bare and devoid of colour and hope. And next day, we may perceive our life beneath a blue sky with the Spring sun set high on it, the light mellow and yet bright, colours as vivid as flowers abloom on a meadow, tainting our whole being with a new hope, a lighter step, a warmer breathing.

As absurd as this might seem, I needed that play with light and elements in order to focus on my characters, and make them feel real. Each one of them must perceive the world through different eyes, and under different lights, all along the story line. They must evolve, they must change, they might revert, even. But they need to see their surroundings differently, according to who they are and their personalities and their backgrounds. So readers can relate to them, I guess. And now, I must bid goodbye and move on to finish those pesky two chapters that are left, so that I can go back to my routine next week, where I am able to exercise five days a week - I think I managed to exercise at least twice this past few days, not counting the school runs, of course - where I can think up new recipes and old ones I am still wishing I can try, where I can have other thoughts and other characters in my head, and be myself once more, as right now I haven't been able to be other than a woman who decided she must find out who really killed a man's wife and baby girl, or a man who lost his family and cannot believe they were not murdered.


  1. Adorava ler alguma coisa tua. Sempre que leio alguma coisa aqui vejo-te, tudo parece tão genuíno e pelas coisas que te interessam de certeza que ia gostar de ler do que fosses escrever. Adorei a metáfora da luz, eu que sou obcecada com luz!

    1. quiça um dia consigo fundos via crowdfunding para fazer o self publishing de um livro!!! ;)

  2. que bonito está tudo! adoro as cores e adorava que tivesses a oportunidade de publicar um dia aquilo que escreves! tenho a certeza que ia adorar!

    1. cada vez penso mais no assunto e na possibilidade de tentar...


Post a Comment