I took this picture a while back, but every time I see it on my phone, I think of something that was said to me that day. A friend of mine is from Chicago, and it amazed her that behind the houses had docked boats on a canal right behind them. I felt like I didn't understand what she was trying to say. I've seen tons of neighborhoods with the same layout, houses built on the two sides of a canal, with fishing boats docked on the shore. But to her, it was very different, almost swamp-like. Which I guess applies to South Florida pretty well.
I look at this picture again now and I see something else that make me feel even more like a South Floridian. The palm trees in the background I know are royal palms. In my head I always differentiate between royal palms and cabbage palms, because in elementary school I had to do a report on the state of Florida, covering such things as the state flower, state motto, and state tree. Since then I know the difference between the two types of palm trees and in this picture that is what came to my mind. It made me aware of how my past experiences affect my perception of the minor details.
Interestingly enough, this picture sort of had a punctum for me. The shadow of the two people at the bottom right hand corner make me glance at the spot over and over again. I'm not really sure if they are holding hands or just walking past each other. I wonder if they even know each other, or whether they're of the same gender. The sight of those silhouettes pricks me, and makes me think more about it, makes me look at it for longer than I look at the rest of the picture.
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