Ode to Imperfection

How dreadful it would be to be perfect, to be without flaw or fault, to be complete, a finished product. There would be nothing left to do then; there would be no more dreams, nothing to strive for, nothing to achieve.

Save me from perfection if it means to refrain from taking in the view with my camera through the window just because the window is dirty.

And who wants to be perfect as a photographer, if it means ignoring your baby’s cry in order to work on the perfect focus and composition?

Nature is never flawless, but does that keeps us from buying roses when we need a gift for a loved one or a spot of colour at home to cheer us up?

Nature is never flawless but perfectly flawed; overripe bananas should be treasured, because at that stage they are at their sweetest and most easily digestible for the baby.

And oh, having recently moved house, I have found memories reciding in the most imperfect things, memories of happy occasions, eating and drinking in company.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jenny Graver.