There is a precise, quiet sort of madness in preferring the company of paper and ink to that of actual human beings. While normal people were out making small talk, exchanging pleasantries, and forming those mysterious bonds known as “friendships,” I was usually tucked away in some mossy corner, clutching a camera and a thoroughly dog-eared copy of A Twist in the Tale.
If I am entirely honest, Jeffrey Archer has a lot to answer for. I read about him passing away and I was transported to the good old days when i started reading his stories.
My tendency to wander off, pretending to be a solitary thinker while mostly just trying not to trip over exposed tree roots, can be traced straight back to his pages. Archer taught us that life is essentially a series of high-stakes plot twists, though my own grand plot twists usually involve failed attempts at avoiding human contact.
But ah, yes, the chai. Endless, steaming cups of it, consumed in the damp, quiet stretches of the afternoon while devouring tales of ruthless ambition, political backstabbing, and art heists. There is an undeniable charm in sitting amidst the towering silver oaks, nursing a mug of not too sweet tea, while reading about upper-class English gentlemen ruining each other’s lives over a boardroom vote. It is the ultimate form of escapism: the serenity of the woods on the outside, and pure, unfiltered melodramatic chaos on the inside.
It was Archer who was one of the chaps who unknowingly and inadvertently turned me into a writer of articles and blog entries (most of which will never see the light of day). His sheer, unadulterated knack for storytelling unburdened by the need to be overly literary or ridiculously profound, showed that a good story just needs a hook, a bit of pace, and a whole lot of nerve. Watching him weave intricate webs out of human ambition made me want to capture my own small, quiet world. So, off I went with my camera, framing the world through a lens by day, and framing my unpublished thoughts by night.
Some might call a life spent with books, walks, and a camera lens a bit lonely. But as Archer so brilliantly proved over dozens of novels, a single person with a vivid imagination and a decent plot is never truly alone.
So here’s to Jeffrey…. the man who made introversion feel like a grand, thrilling adventure, one cup of chai and one photograph at a time.
