All posts tagged: photography

life, unbound

    “I don´t know what beauty you can possibly find in any of that!” She throws at me in passing, her head slowly shaking from one side to the other. I suppose it is yet something else in which I am a disappointment to her. Heart on the sleeve. Head in the clouds. Always in dreamland. Always living a fantasy. “Life is not what you think it is, little missy!”, she used to scold me many, many years ago. “You imagine it´s all sweet words and poetry and everything like in the movies and all la-di-da, and it ain´t, it just ain´t!” I smile to myself and carry on shooting. I almost tell her that life turns out to be exactly as I imagined it. Every single blessed day. But I don´t. I just smile to Man, who´s crept up silently behind me, he too smiling. His hand is on my shoulder. In my hand, the camera whirrs and purrs. The macro is but the faintest whisper as it slides and locks. I don´t …

light, ghostly (2): under an electric moonlight

It’s only the middle of the afternoon, but the sky is laden heavy with storm and snow. It’s gone so dark I can no longer read, and I slowly leave the blanketed comfort of my corner by the window in search of this other, less subtle, harsher, more strident light. I don’t much care for this other light. In truth, I could almost say I resent it. This light, it changes things. It stands as a threshold past which day becomes night and what we thought was material and immutable and permanent suddenly becomes something else, but mostly shadows of itself. It gives different hues to colours, even different sizes to things. It makes the pages of my old, old, old Penguin copy of The Painted Veil seem even browner, even brittler, even older. Almost too fragile to bear. And it does the same to my hands, to the worn out brocade of the chair cover, even to the terracotta coloured walls, the white of the ceiling. It solidifies shadows into corners of rooms and under furniture, …