While sitting in a hospital waiting room recently while my daughter was in surgery, I was surprised to see something I've never seen before in a hospital. The door opened, and a woman entered, pushing a dolly in front of her. You know, one of those upright cart things people use to move heavy objects around? Well, this woman's heavy object was a harp. Yes, you read that right, a harp!
She spent a few moments setting up a music stand, opening her sheet music on it, and then placed the harp on her knees. It was some kind of mini-harp, not the big kind that sits on the floor. But then she started to play, and the sound that filled the waiting room was big enough for me. I felt myself relax, and knew everything would be fine. It felt a little like everyone in that waiting room breathed a collective sigh, and relaxed along with me.
After about 30 minutes of music, the harpist loaded her harp back on the cart, collapsed her music stand, and put it and her sheet music back in her bag. Then she wheeled it all out the door again.
While I am the very definition of an amateur photographer, it is something I enjoy doing. Attribute it, perhaps, to a manifestation of early mental miasma. There are so many little bits of life -- characters, colors, composition, vignettes, snippets of conversation, sightings both natural and otherwise -- that delight me. I don't want to lose them in that miasma, so I try to capture them in one way or another. The camera has a long memory.