What the Tree Chose to Show Me
The Tree That Watched Me Back
Some photos tell you stories.
Others? They make you feel like you’ve stepped into one.
That evening, I wasn’t searching for anything. I was just walking, alone, following a quiet path lined with whispers of dusk. But something pulled me not loudly, just a soft tug in the chest. I looked up and saw it.
A tree. Twisted, bent, and tired. It wasn’t beautiful. It wasn’t even big. But it had presence.
Like it had been standing there for years not growing, but enduring.
Like it had seen things it never got the chance to speak about.
Behind it stood a temple calm, quiet, oddly distant even though it was just a few feet away. But I couldn’t tell if the temple gave the tree strength... or if it was the reason the tree stood the way it did.
There was no crowd. No chants. No rituals.
Just silence, and the strange hum of something that had been there for a long, long time.
I took out my phone and clicked. Just once. I didn’t frame much. I didn’t even wait for the “perfect light.”
I just… clicked.
But later, when I saw the photo it wasn’t the tree I remembered. It wasn’t the temple either.
It was the feeling.
That eerie stillness. That strange connection. That presence.
I went there to click a photo… but ended up capturing something else.
Something unspoken.
And the more I looked at it, the more I realised:
The tree wasn’t just standing it was carrying.
The weight of stories, winds, memories… maybe even pain.
It looked worn, but not broken. Like it had whispered into the void so many times that it had become the silence itself.
There was something around it not visible, but very much there.
The kind of presence that doesn’t need sound or shape to be felt.
And then a thought hit me:
What if I didn’t just photograph the tree?
What if the tree allowed itself to be photographed… so someone would finally see?
What I wanted to capture didn’t show up. The angles, the frame, the depth they weren’t what I imagined.
But what I felt?
That stayed.
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