He hates the way that I take pictures everywhere we go. He tells me I am too distracted, that I need to learn to live in the moment, to enjoy it. But he doesn't know that my heart is overflowing with excitement and joy that I am rarely ever granted. My days are mostly void of color, of feeling, that sometimes I doubt whether I am actually alive. He doesn't understand that I carry my camera around to freeze these colorful moments, to stick them in my pocket for days that I can't even see the sun through my window. So I can remember what life was like not black and white.