Anna Gump

Trusting

Trusting someone is never easy, because you don't know how much you can tell them before everything turns sour. It's a gamble to trust someone so deeply. No matter how many years you've been with them, through thick and thin, that trust can break through the ice at any second, never to resurface. When someone never breaks that trust, however, it is a beautiful thing to experience. They will guide you and stay with you no matter what. You can tell them anything, and they will promise they will never tell anyone else. It's almost a secret language, when you trust someone with absolutely anything and everything, and everyone needs someone to trust.

I chose 'Lover of the Light' by Mumford & Sons because in the music video the man is blind and feels held back because he is confined to his home and his familiar routine after his loved one dies. He trusts the outside world and himself enough, and then successfully ventures out on his own for once, by using every other sense, besides his sight.

Canon Rebel

A slight breeze runs through the trees, shaking up the leaves and sending ripples across the water. The sun rises in the sky, sending her bright rays down to earth. Walking down the thin trail, it takes a sharp turn and moves alongside the river in both directions. I listen as the water rushes over the rocks. Caw, caw. A Crow sits in a tree above me, staring me down. Caw, caw. It flies off, disappearing into the blue nothing that is the sky. Looking downstream, a deer wearily crosses the water, unaware of how deep the river could be. She makes it across and disappears into the deep sea of evergreens just as I manage to take out my camera. I look around, hoping for a bird of prey, but there's nothing but me, and the fish in the river. Sitting on a rock, I use my knee as a tripod so that the photos won't come out blurry or crooked. Dark clouds loom in the background before taking over, blocking the Sun's view of the world, as she tries to warm up the winter-stricken planet. I sit there on the rock for a moment, admiring the sounds and sights. It begins to sprinkle, and it's as if a million tiny, invisible creatures are bounding about on the surface of the river. Soon, the Canon finds the way back into it's home, and I carry it back to the car, happy to have captured the moments while they were there.