An old thought of mine was returned to me by someone. That taking photos is such a waste. The moment happened for you to see it and cherish the sight forever in your memories. Not to be shot and stored as *.jpeg or *.gif in your disk. You never go back to it except when its time for a photography contest. Things aren’t cherished but judged.
What I said is just a general case where people compete with extraordinary cameras to an ordinary element of sheer talent and taste to photography. Photography is an art. Truly an art with a lot of passion and so much less of talent, to put it more correct. As any other art, it demands a drive. A spirit to make it worth knowing. Nothing matches that gift. But amazingly, it’s not something you are born with to be called an innate thing. It roots out of a deep desire of sharing the sight you had with someone else who deserve to have enjoyed the charm. It’s a craving to show the world through a different perspective that’s unique to the photographer. What you see would have been missed by others and that’s what makes you exceptional in taking photos. It’s a story you say. A symbolism you develop. An impression that you make. With the marvel of colours and elegance of light and audacity of darkness.