For this moment, I'd like to focus more on the endgame of what an artist creates, the viewers perspective. That's because I didn't realize when I created this photo, something unusual would happen for me, personally. Normally, the most meaningful time in the process of photography is when I take the photo. That's because I often put a lot of care and time into each shot. Little did I know that, as the photographer, the tables would soon turn on me in a good way. I was going to benefit more as the viewer this time.

While setting up the camera, I felt a great sense of involvement, calm and peace under those clouds. I stood in awe of that moving, breathing sky; layers of color and texture that I could almost reach up and swirl about with my own hands. It was a short, beneficial moment of growth for me, and yet the best part would come later.
Almost a year after I took the shot, about six months after moving away from there, I began reflecting as I lifted the photos from the archives and stared at the many colors and layers. Just outside our tiny rental, on someone’s farm where I took these photos, it was our home for about two and a half years. It was not an easy place to live. Between the building, many of the experiences and some of the neighbors, we struggled to find peace in our home. And yet came the moments like you see here. Under a big, Desert sky, we saw distant storms, falling stars and sunsets unlike any other.
Now that photo reminds me of one of my favorite philosophies in life, to forget the negative parts of my experiences and remember the positive. How beautifully ironic; a sunset full of gifts that come as if the sun were rising; an elegant, visual reminder that every cloud has a multicolored lining.
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