I thought it was achingly beautiful. I thought everything there was unnaturally beautiful. My eyes flitted from one direction to the next. I could hear the clicking of my camera, I was photographing everything with increasing urgency. I wanted to make the beauty mine, to be able to share it, to help them understand. The time was elastic, I had long decadent moments but the days would skid past me, a blur. This was a day trip, we were seeing one of the most coveted sights in the world in twelve hours, including all the traveling. The semester was not only my study abroad, but my first time out of the country. I was far, far, away, and everything seemed to glow, to beckon to me. I was entranced by the way the light crept in through the trees and the plants. I felt happy, and overwhelmed. I fretted constantly. Would photographs overwhelm my natural memories? Without them would I be able to remember? Are they touristy? (Yes.) But they are also a fragmented truth, the evidence, my “that has been”. Every one is a jewel, a precious set of pixels arranged to ignite.