Image from here.
I spent today laughing, watching beautiful kids in colorful outfits playing gleefully on green meadows against 360 degrees of perfect blue skies and fluffy white clouds.
A picture-perfect day.
So full of hope. So full of joy.
So full of life.
Except that in my line of work, nothing is exactly as it seems.
Had the camera panned further down, from the gorgeous blue heavens, to the fresh-faced children and their happy smiles, to the dewy green grass beneath their feet, it would have also revealed grave markers nestled among the blades.
Some of the children and I walked up one of the grassy hills, reading the names of the people lying beneath us. One kid pulled me over to a certain marker, which only had one date inscribed on it:
March 10, 2010.
"He was a baby," I explained. "He was born and died on the same day."
"Oh," replied the kid nonchalantly, as though I had just told him why dead leaves turn brown.
At around 3 p.m. I was suddenly struck with a feeling that something terrible was happening somewhere. But none of us heard of the news till we all got home from the shoot.
It had been a blue-sky day.