![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBff15xXsRMSHWr9uZZgXS-MFSBAXYjHiFxhyphenhyphenYsRFIYOFLIyIktVCrOBN1tjKUxiOrCAjazPuYbvJKwQ99YBSAUed7vtUGInXQlCyywuw8y3HVFCRs-ubB6Jd5LfH5AEDPY1vJ/s1600/IMG_0372.JPG)
I know that if I show this picture to Ja, he would stare at it very briefly and then, swiftly, he would look away. Oftentimes, he'd let out a sigh. A long,long sigh. If I'd ask him, what's wrong? Isn't this picture cute? Ja would not even utter a word. He would just give me one long, sorrowful look, and then, he'd go back to his business. Ja is my photo-critic and I exactly know what he wants in a picture. He wants a picture that tells a story; the kind of pictures with people in them doing some actions; of course, I don't need to say that they should be well composed, the rule of thirds and all, you know, the kind that gets published in newspapers. But I don't know how to make myself want to take those pictures to please Ja. I only want to please myself.
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