Practically, it was upon us. Friends and the plains.
Two of my primary school buddies usually come and pay me a visit in our house next to Lake Balaton. Once per summer. More like pre-summer: it’s that last weekend before the season starts and the town is swarmed for two months by hordes of tourists.
So, after a particularly long night dawn found us still discussing some of the big questions of life (well, 20-something problems). We spotted a faint, warm sliver of light looming on the horizon. For four hours straight nothing could interrupt our conversation, but now we all felt the urge to hurry upstairs and rush to the balcony. Naturally, with the camera in my hands.
Truth be told, the wine still had its effects on me: I faintly remember taking a bunch of photos on bulb during the storm a couple of hours before (well, those pictures weren’t even developed later). Bottom line, a masterful composition wasn’t my prime concern at that moment.
Taking that photo was more like an awe, honoring the young, cheerful sunrise of early June. Despite of being incredibly tired and relatively drunk, the phenomenon filled me with an inexplicable amount of joy. And yes, five minutes after taking it I was already asleep; but the story and the photo still remains.