It’s necessary, sometimes, to take a moment to simply pause, reflect and appreciate. I’ve found that, as a student, we’re usually all so busy with studying, part-time jobs, socials, checking in with the family, partying (this could be an inexhaustive list), that often the only photos we take are just  posing with mates before your make-up sweats away into the night. Noticing this made me  ponder what, tangible or otherwise, we take the time to document and why we deem it worthy of  documenting. So, whilst I’m not scoffing at the dolled-up mirror selfie, I thought it might be  interesting to take some time to notice the little moments that get missed because they’re not the  most ‘gram worthy’. Even though many of our daily experiences aren’t exactly flattering, let alone breath-taking, it doesn’t mean that they’re worthless. Your life and experiences are worth  something, whether that is sharing with others or just yourself. So, here’s a few small slices of time  that, in retrospect, I’m grateful to have paused to appreciate and kept frozen. 

Instagram usually lets you know when there’s a fantastic sunrise or sunset. If there’s a beautiful  skyscape above the city, you better believe that your followers will show it to you. There’s seemingly almost no reason to go look at it in person when the virtual picture might be even more vibrant and taken from a better viewpoint than you could get to. Despite this, the experience of catching the sunrise is subjective - it’s your adventure, your moment alone with the early morning world, and that isn’t a feeling which can be found in another person’s Instagram story. It is personal and that’s beautiful. So, despite the fact that neither of us had checked the weather forecast, on a crisp April morning, my flatmate and I decided we’d get up before dawn, just to watch the sun climb its way  into the sky. 

Our walk along West End streets to Kelvingrove Park, circa 5am, evoked fond memories of walking  home buzzed after nights out, as the chill Spring air nipped at the bare skin poking out from hoodie  sleeves. We were almost the only people around, as the rest of the city stayed in the warm embrace of their duvets, experiencing the morning quiet in a different, but hopefully just as peaceful, manner. This was amid full lockdown in Scotland, and although a lack of pedestrians was expected at this hour, it was a welcome contrast to the eery feeling which accompanied the empty streets during the day. It was almost surreal to experience a sense of calm when out in public during the pandemic. Thus, as we excitedly approached the park, fuelled by an increasing sense of awareness of not feeling trapped for once, we began to view the idea of catching the sunrise as something serene, awe inducing, perhaps even ethereal. 

We clearly forgot that we live in reality, and reality is a place in which everything isn’t picturesque nor viewed through a warm coloured filter. It’s a place in which there is no director who tweaks the mise en scène to create that elating, dreamscape-like version of events that excites and draws in the audience. There were no great brush strokes of fuchsia, violet and peach; the sky was a sheet of opaque, pale grey cloud. 

But that’s OK. The lack of visibility couldn’t cast a shadow on the tranquillity of that moment. We sat atop the big slope, with the only red-orange glow being that of the artificial lights which illuminate the University’s main building, but it was nonetheless a moment of awe. We were lucky enough to sit in a huge green space in a city, facing an institute of world class education which we have the good fortune to attend, and we didn’t have anywhere else to be in that moment. There was nothing  pressing to do, there was just the time and the place to sit and take in our surroundings. It shouldn’t matter that those surroundings were damp, chilly and a little starved of colour, because at that very moment, they were stunning. At a time in which we were becoming so stressed, just waiting for yet more bad news, this moment felt like the relaxation of a deep exhale, and that was pretty spectacular. 

The photo I took that morning, as well as being fuzzy and of low quality (shout out to old Androids), is far from being “one for the ‘gram” due to the fact that, at a glance, it looks fairly bland. However, it’s not the photo, but the moment of calm which it represents that is important. It serves as a reminder that the little moments, the ones that we personally find joy in, are worth holding on to. We’re now in a time in which big moments, like gigs, parties and exotic holidays seem like ancient history. So, it’s not worth living life just pining for the big moments to happen again. We need to take time to celebrate small pieces of joy, in whatever form they come in now. 

So, we chased the sunset, saw some clouds, and I shared them online anyway.