Onism (noun): the awareness of how little of the world you will see

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The snap of the photographer’s camera was crisp and fresh. He didn’t glance at the preview that popped up after the shot, but he did smugly lift up his equipment so that everyone else around the platform could see the brand new technology. An awed gasp came from somewhere he couldn’t see, and immediately, he felt satisfied with his accomplishment.

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Now, the camera was pointed at a flourishing tidepool. There were hundreds of tourists standing behind him in a long and winding line, but he took his time. After all, he paid extra to skip the waiting and grab the best photos before they could.

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The photographer grinned vibrantly at the lens. He already took plenty of pictures with his extravagant camera, so why not take another one of himself? With a flashy swoop, he dusted off his designer brand items and snapped another photo to add to his collection.

He had no doubt in his mind that the top photography prize of the year would be his, and only his, to claim.

Until it wasn’t.

On the podium, was a somewhat blurry photo of a run down shack. It looked pitifully flimsy with its shattered window and broken planks, and the shadowed lighting of the image even made it seem haunted. It was taken with a phone, in a country that he’d never even heard the name of. The title read, “The World That We Don’t See,” and the description told him that the poor shack was only the photographer’s backyard.

A torrent of jealousy and disbelief crashed into his heart as he watched a teenage girl, shedding tears, thanking the crowd for a prize money that should’ve been his.

He didn’t understand why at all! He had the most advanced gear and the best viewing locations, and he visited every nature park he could pay for, so why? Why did an ingrown child with a shabby camera beat him with a picture of her backyard?