Avid

My friend Cassidy and I used to judge beaches partly based on it’s quality and quantity of interesting shells.

A couple days ago, I went to chase the coyote, and found these beauties. I would just get onto a good rythym and had to stop and look at a shell.

The light was great, the shells fetching. And so my life became a matter of composition and physics - the gentle persuasions of any avid photographer.

Why are photographers, “avid?”

Our public image is dorky enough as it is, with our cameras and photo vest, shuffling on our hands and knees mumbling to our selves about f stops. The last thing we need is a strange adjective added to our kit.

Ah well. Avid isn’t so bad. At least we have some excitement about life. I’d rather be avid than bored any day. I’d rather stop my run and admire a shell, than not (this is also a strategic way to stop and catch your breath). And honestly, I don’t think I could stop if I wanted to. I am what I am: Avid