All extremes of feeling are allied with madness.
― Virginia Woolf
I am obsessed with human beings. I am awkward among them. Silent conversations, yeah I’d prefer that. But then, I am obsessed with taking pictures of human beings. There are times I have stepped out of my house with an intention to capture the beauty of nature, but I end up capturing people and their expressions. I can’t give up on that obsession for some reason. Looking at the pictures after I come home gives me a sense of satisfaction. I feel connected to them in a way I haven’t understood as yet. And in the end, I feel good. I forget about my problems for a while and feel liberated. And yet, I am confused and bound by the limitations of my own self.
Imperfect is me.