The past always seems brighter than the present. The sun shone brighter, the rain was warmer, the times meant more. Images are more impressive seen reflected off of a convex mirror, especially an extreme convex like the back of a spoon or chrome toaster. I have obtained a taste for mirror photography. Not the self-taken celebrity nudes, nor the internet photos of new haircuts in the bathroom, but reflections in interesting places, or through objects whose primary function is not reflection. Side view mirror shots are included in the category.
Upon settling in a place that is physically familiar but mentally foreign, I noticed that I continuously crave for what my life was a month previous. For the one month old life. Either I wish I hadn’t settled, or I wish I hadn’t left, but I always wish I was one month younger. I will never be one month younger. In all occasions, my life a month before was more certain than the present, and seemed like a better fit. When in Saskatchewan, I thought this of life on the road. When on the road, I thought this of life in Montreal. When in Montreal, I thought this of life in Saskatchewan. A certain regret for the present and a nostalgia for the past builds up an uncomfortable discontentment in any situation, and this breeds negativity. Contentment, in a certain regard, is needed in the present.
I need to live as if it were a bike ride with no side view mirrors. Straight ahead without any second thought, with a nice song playing in my ears to blank out the hums of cars and the signals of safety. Because safety and looking forward are not related very closely. Worrying about safety creates the reaction of looking backwards constantly.
The present is never worse than the past. The past is never worse than the past before that. Objects in the mirror are not as good as they appear, nor are they any worse than what is inside the car, or what is on the thin flat line of the horizon.