The first time I saw the world through his eyes was in my first year of high school . His photographs were bleeding with color and his soul shined through them. I could feel what he felt when he took the picture, I could see what he saw and the world he saw was truly beautiful. I got addicted to that world and spent my time looking at his rather than my own. I was starting to wonder what I was like in his world.

As time passed by I kept getting glimpses of this beauty.  As I was trying to put the pieces of his world together I was beginning to understand him more and more. But, strangely enough, the world I saw everyday remained the same. I was unable to see it's shine and it's beauty... as he did.

I picked up art. If I couldn't see what he sees I was going to make my own world just to get a little closer to his. Years passed and I got obsessed with getting better at replicating his world but something was always missing. His soul was not there. The world is nothing without the observer. And the beauty of the world is only as bright as you see it.

Sometimes I tried to paint the soul behind the camera. The being who made the world shine so bright. Could I also shine as bright in his eyes?

In my last year of high school the photos stopped coming. I couldn't accept it at first but it became clear after a few months. He graduated high school and I lost my chance to see the eyes of the person who sees such beauty. Doesn't he get blinded by it? I probably saw them at the ceremony last year but I wasn't paying attention. Maybe if I looked a little closer I could have seen the world's reflection in their eyes. But now he's gone and I'm left guessing at the colour of his eyes.

After graduating high school I got into an art college. I didn't think I'd make it as my obsession with that person only grew stronger with the passing of time. Everytime when I looked at the window I saw the world through my eyes and it looked nothing like theirs. Sometimes I caught glimpses of his world in unexpected places: in the mirror of a lake, in the morning sky, through the colors of a dead leaf... But I couldn't stop myself from wondering what his eyes would see as he watched them.

But one day as I was hurrying to get to my class, time froze. There it was, on the wall next to me, a piece of the world I dreaded to replicate. It was as beautiful as ever. As I stared at it, my eyes lost themselves for a second, but for me it lasted for a very long time. After I thought I'll never see new pieces of this world, I was certain that this was a second chance. And I wasn't going to miss it for the world. The picture was staring at a door. I took a deep breath and got in the class in the middle of the lecture. I knew if I was going to find them, the photography related classes would be the best place to do it. 

I sat quietly next to a sleeping student. I couldn't calm down because I felt so close to them. I just had to find them. When the lecture was over I stood up in my seat and began looking for them. After so much time I knew I could recognize them. But after a few minutes the room was almost empty and I couldn't find them. I tried searching for another few weeks. I would sit in the same place, listen to the lecture and then scanning everyone with my gaze in the hope that I would meet them. But I didn't. A lot of things crossed my mind. In my desperation I thought that maybe I don't know them as well as I think I do but I couldn't accept that. Then why couldn't I find them? Is that person even real? Those eyes who capture everything in this world and makes it seem perfect, like it was meant to be that way.... Are they even real?

A clicking sound rang in my ear. My mind was so full of thoughts that it couldn't make up the meaning of the sound so my eyes had to solve the mistery. Facing me was a camera. Behind the camera was a pair of eyes and in them, my reflection. "I could see your heart breaking into pieces in your eyes... And I thought it was beautiful" 

He was shining when he said that. His eyes were filled with love. It was as if he was part of his world. But his image got more and more blurry as the tears flooded my eyes. It was him. And he shines even brighter than his world. 

I cried for a long time and as confused as he was, he kept me company until I couldn't cry anymore and that took a long time. I couldn't tell him the reason for my breakdown because I wasn't really aware of it either. But he didn't ask anything and we just talked like nothing ever happened. During the conversation I kept thinking it was all a dream and I was going to wake up in my bed at any minute. But I didn't. We exchanged phone numbers before departing. I didn't want to separate myself from him because I thought he would dissappear again and I wouldn't be able to reach him. So when he started to walk away, I wasn't able to make another step in the opposite direction so I stood there with my feet firmly stuck to the ground. Even after I lost sight of him my feet wouldn't move. An hour passed by until the cold chased me home. I couldn't sleep all night. I kept staring at his number afraid that it was all just a dream. A string of numbers was the only evidence I had that I was very much awake.

A few days passed where I couldn't build up the courage to get in touch with him and we didn't have shared classes until next week. Sleep deprivation and misery kept me from making any decent art so the pressure to pass the class made everything worse. I longed for that day when we shared lectures to come,but when it did, my body was unable to open the door to the class. A feeling of excruciating fear ran through my body. I was paralized. Unable to move for some time which to me seemed like eternity, I thought of every possible and impossible horrible scenario that crossed my mind. In the end the only thing that enabled me to move was my deeply rooted desire to see him. So with all the courage I could muster I stepped into the class. My eyes fixed themselves on the black hoodie covered head on the desk, his soft curly bangs shriveled on his arms. Slowly, I got closer. I had to make sure it was him. As I reached my seat, a pair of eyes jumped from the confort of the hoodie and fixed me with his gaze. He smiled softly, his eyes sparkling with joy. He didn't dissapear. He was right there in front of me and I couldn't stop a smile from forming on my face. Is a person even capable of experiencing such joy?

We became friends. Our time together started to get longer and longer. I had the opportunity to see him see the world. Every photo he took and shared with me became an important possession of mine. I cherished them deeply. I had the opportunity to see some of his habits or quirks. Like he closes his eyes for a second when he goes out so he can fully feel the breeze on his skin, how his head falls slightly everytime he gets too sleepy in class, the way his eyes widen when he sees something to photograph or how he hums softly to himself along with the birds outside the window in class. I don't think he's even aware he's doing it. I hold my time with him very precious. When he talks about the beauty of the world his eyes sparkle and the clarity of his details get you submerged in the painting of his words. I get to experience, I get to see everything he sees and everything his eyes touch becomes a work of art.

I regained my ability to make art. Everyday after spending time with him I would get a deep thirst to lay down on the canvas all of his words. This time I wasn't painting his world, I was painting the world I see through his eyes. Painting after painting, my hand wouldn't stop moving. It was like I was guided by beauty. I would stay up all night to finish a painting just because I felt like I was connected to him through them somehow. It was a strange feeling.

A year had passed and our friendship became a lot stronger. One evening, we were hanging out and I saw pain in his eyes. It was rare for him to make that kind of face. I asked him to tell me what happened and so he confessed to me. His parents wanted him to have a safe career and to stop pursuing art. He was devastated by the thought and I was as well. He was unable to ignore the beauty that surrounded him and blinding those heaven-sent eyes was a gruesome sin. I couldn't confort him as I was also disturbed by that thought. I felt his head on my shoulder and his silent sobbing. Despite knowing how wrecked he was, the only thing I was hearing in that moment were the forceful beating of my heart. We stood there in silence for a while until the rain chased us home.