Here is my Sunday thought.
When I look at this photograph now, I realize it’s not really about the postbox at all.
It’s about the moment I decided to stop.
That’s something photography gives us—these tiny interruptions in the flow of life. Most of the time we move quickly: walking, hurrying, already thinking about the next thing. And then, suddenly, something makes us pause. We raise the camera, and in that instant, the ordinary becomes extraordinary.
The photograph itself is just a trace, a souvenir of that pause. The real photograph—the one that matters—already happened in the moment we refused to walk past.
I sometimes wonder if that’s why I keep photographing. Not only to make images, but to train myself to notice. To be interrupted by the world, to let it remind me that even small details—a wall, a box, a shadow—are worth attention.
And maybe that’s one of photography’s greatest gifts: it teaches us to be interrupted.
Do you also often find yourself stopped in your tracks by something small, unexpected, easily overlooked—something you had to notice?
Until next time,
Tomasz
Reminds me a lot of Camera Lucida
I relate to your words - "It’s about the moment I decided to stop" - Walking on my own with a camera in hand encourages a mindful focus to look around rather than just look ahead. You see and sense of scene around you that somehow makes you "stop" to capture the moment.