Bits of rock and grit were digging into my cheek as I pressed my face into the ground and peered through my camera. It was an inch off the ground, propped up on twigs and stones, and wobbly as a drunk mother.
As I laid across the narrow step my shirt had ridden up a bit, and I didn’t feel a thing as the tiny carnivores jumped on for an all you can eat buffet.
“What happened to your back?!” My boyfriend yelled later on. After examining a mirror, I muttered something like: at least it’s not itching, but I totally forgot to knock on wood… 12 hours later the bites swelled up and I figured only a sandblaster could get rid of the itch.
The moral? Bring your tripod next time stupid.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
