She says she has a photographic memory. But that is not to imply that her memory is very good. It is good indeed but not as good as a photographic memory. Nevertheless, she uses the word because she feels it fits her aptly. She remembers incidents like a movie made of a thousand photographs. But then she also imagines with photographs in her head. So, the claim of a photographic memory is wrong. She is just influenced into looking at the world through a lens!
So one not so fine night an idea popped in her head and evidence of it was that she had an imagine in her imagination. So to her it was time she wrote about it. She opened her blog and clicked on "new post". Before she typed anything, she went to look for a picture. She found none. She found many. Yet she found none. She did not find the perfect picture of a delicate foot in a light shimmering pink home-sewn ballet shoe posed in the air just about to touch the cold stone floor with the base of her big toe.
So she went on without a photograph to describe that posed foot.
She lifted her foot off the cold stone floor. It was almost a relief for her muscle that she did not notice. The cold had permeated through the sole of the cloth shoe, and the cloth of her sock to her bare foot. But in the air it released just for a fraction of a second before the muscle was taut again. Taut with nervousness and anxiety. She knew that in some countries they had a name for this "problem" and could be treated with drugs. In her country though, if a loved squeezed your arm it worked like magic, but you could deal with it yourself if you took a deep breathe. That's what she did. She took a deep breathe in and exhaled it out, releasing the muscle for the second time in the short fraction of a sec. She let a moment pass when she remembered all the steps she took before in toughness and pain, not to scare her but to calm her and give her the will and intent. She let the fraction of a second pass as well. She looked down at her foot. The pink color was so subtle it could look like her own skin except for the shimmer it had. Specially stitched for her own little foot. The little lace bow made her smile. And that's how she smiled in the last fraction of a second before she put her foot lightly on the cold stone floor. All it took was one second!