TOEM: A Photographed Memory
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On that evening, you've finally witnessed Toem with your own eyes. Cold, tundra winds envelop around you, yet all that's felt is warmth as you bask underneath the soft, gleaming rainbow akin to a colorful, moonlight eclipse.
Click!
Your allured gaze was pulled out of the tranquil state when the noise wailed from the higher peak. Peeking a careful look up above, safety felt reassured when the culprit is no wolf, bear, or any other beast of the snow—a young photographer, scampering around to capture any and all eye-worthy angles.
In a moment's silent trance, the photographer noticed you too.
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I carefully trek down the slope of snow, and the moment my heels touch the lower grounds, brisk to a small mound beside you as I quickly aim my camera to the Toem . . .
Click!
. . . Alas, I was merely a second too late from catching the final angle. The Toem spirals and sink out of existence, sheltering us once more underneath the covers of a starry night. I let out a small kick to the snow in subtle disappointment, then hastily reassessed manners when I remembered your presence near me. I sigh out an exhale, and smile as I made an attempt of converse;
??: "Hallå, er ... sheesh, unlucky am I right? hahahah."
After a chuckle of defeat, I hoist the camera back atop my chest, laying its little bandolier around and over my shoulder, before offering you a polite handshake. I continue with a sincere, friendly tone of voice.
Phoþo: "My name is Phoþo."