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The alarm clock started making that annoying high pitched noise again. I blindly reached over my bedside table and smacked it to stop, basking on the silence that followed. Reluctantly, I peeled my open eyes. They adjusted to the light that the morning sun brings through the windows as I stare at the yellow ceiling of my room for a couple of minutes to get my bearing on things.

I stretched my arms over my head, trying to shake the remaining sleep off my eyes and attempted to remember why I was awake at 7am. Right. I have a wedding to shoot. Yawning loudly, I get out of bed, fixing the duvet and stacking the pillows into a neat pile before I padded to my kitchen.

I should be having a heavy breakfast so I could go around my task for today without passing out but I was too lazy to cook anything decent plus I'm not really hungry. So I opened the cupboard and took the cereal out, making a detour to the fridge to grab the jug of milk. Propping myself on the bar stool, I started eating my breakfast, thinking about the day ahead.

I find myself smiling, I love my job, most of the time it doesn't feel like work at all. I'm a photographer and I take pictures for a living. My dad said I was born for it. He often tells me the time I got my first camera, him and mom were stunned to see pictures that a nine years old couldn't have possibly taken. BamBam's camera was all snapshots of girls in school while mine contained landscapes and people high with their emotions. I always got drawn to them, how colors of nature complement each other wonderfully. Or how beautiful the human face could be, expressing wide range of emotions in just a matter of seconds. All I want to do is take those moments with my camera and immortalise it for other generations to see.

Seems very idealistic isn't it? Yeah, I haven't lost that idealism in me. Most of my friends from college have bitterness of the real world where money what really matters.

On BamBam and I's twelfths birthday, I got my first decent camera. From then on I was unstoppable, filling up one photo album at a time.

After high school, I went to college and spent four years perfecting my craft. It was worth it, probably the best years of my life. I got exposed to a whole different level of photography. It wasn't just a hobby anymore; it's a profession. So here I am three years later and it's still fucking wonderful. I freelance, mostly because I didn't want to have a boss to order me around. In that way I get to work on my own pace. I live by sending my work to various magazines and other publications and getting paid decent amount for it. My works have been part of photo exhibits two times already, and they pay generous money for that. I was able to convert one of the rooms in my apartment to a studio with the money from both exhibits.

Sometimes however when my mom's wedding planning business is short with photographers, I fill in. This is one of those times. Jackson, one of their regular camera men, has his wife in the hospital so i took his post in the mean time. My twin brother, BamBam helps out with business part of the whole thing.

I was rudely snapped out of my trance to the telephone ringing. I sighed, knowing who would it be. I went over to the wall on the other side of the counter where the phone hangs and answered on the fifth ring.


"Took you long enough to answer. " BamBam's voice cut through the line.

"Good morning to you BamBam," I replied calmly. "What do you want. "

BamBam scoffed "I'm making sure you didn't drink yourself sick last night, pass out in another house and forgot you have work today. "

I rolled my eyes and let out a heavy breath, my patience wearing thin, "Well I didn't, I stayed in last night. "

"These are high paying people Lisa, don't fuck it up. "

"Fuck sake BamBam, I know how to be a professional okay? " I answered with a hint of annoyance. " If you'll be treating me like this, go look for another camera man to fill your gap up. "

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