This is an image that was four years and 30,790 miles in the making.
In Scotland, the placement of the country in the northern hemisphere is high enough so that there is a drastic difference between the summer and the winter in length of the day. In the winter (now) the sun rises at roughly 8:45 and sets at 3:30, giving us about six hours of light. In the summer, however, the sun sets at roughly 11, and though it technically rises again at around 5 am, it never fully sets. The light can still be seen seeping over the horizon, shrunk to a corner of the sky.
My graduation from college was a strange affair. From the Harry Potter robes, to being slapped on the head with a cloth and having a silk hood flung around my shoulders, it was unlike anything I experienced. Every element represented a tradition that was time-honored and long beloved, every color had a meaning and every thing was wholly unlike any graduation I had ever been to.
My family took me out to dinner in a restaurant over the water in a nearby town, and a huge rainbow cut across the unfailingly bright sky.
Later, after the Graduation Ball, I gathered with my friends in the wee hours of the morning to go down to Castle Sands, the tiny beach fellow St. Andrean Alex Chase spoke about last week. Someone had built a fire and there were loads of graduates milling about, staring off over the ethereally calm waters, dappled with the light of the subdued sun even at two, three in the morning.
This picture is the nearest I came to capturing it, that strange sky, the strange moment of being on the brink of a new phase in your life without fully wanting to leave the first one behind you yet. Like the half-faded light, I wanted that night to last forever, stretching on and on against all reason, all rationality. I wanted to not have to move on to the bright light of morning and the dawning of an entirely new life, a life that wasn't in Scotland, that didn't find me a student, that forced me to grow up, and conversely, go home.
This picture will always hold that sense of breathless, unrealistic hope for me. Just looking at it and remembering, knowing that it barely touches on the reality of my memory, that the true beauty of that moment didn't fully come through to the camera but will always stay inside my heart makes this a photo worth far more than a thousand words.
