She had a penchant for water...oceans, rivers, she photographed them in droves, usually at sunset or sunrise, the day starting or concluding. She felt very carefully that she captured them in the moment, that one exact second when the shutter clicked and the picture emerged...she didn't try to really capture a scene, she was trying to capture and carefully preserve a feeling.
She had shared with him a picture of the water when the sky, the land and the ocean were almost a single color, an unedited view of landscape beneath her feet to far above her head. She was incredibly delighted that it was captured as she had seen it...was mesmerized by the singleness of the colors, the way it felt like a single brush-stroke.
Driving away from her later that night, he imagined her as the landscape, the ocean, her dark eyes the suns that lured his gaze upwards and blurred her into a brush-stroke. As familiar as he was with her singleness of colors he still could remember each moment, as if the cadence of the heart or the exhilaration in his mind was frozen in an image. In his throat he could still remember the tension as he lingered upon her, his mind unfreezing the image and allowing the quickening of a pulse and the restoration of heat and warmth throughout him. She was by no means any simple picture, but he had stored her visage into his mind so many times that he could easily conjure it up and she would be a resplendent image that never changed. She was preserved, beautifully...carefully. But mostly as a feeling...and he loved that the most.
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