the stranger
A quiet glowing warmth used to lie at the core of me, filling my stomach with a ticklish tenderness and trickling into my toes and fingertips. I felt safe with you. I had found home.
The change was sudden. Like a thief it snuck into the house in the thick blackness of night and stole the glue that held us together.
In the thin grey morning light I could not find you. A stranger looked at me through your sleep drunken eyes. He wore your fur but did not speak or act like you. I didn't like him.
With this man I stood before the skeleton of our house that you and I had built. I searched his eyes for you and saw he too didn't like me.
The glowing warmth inside me is growing faint like a star that is burning out. I don't know where you are but I love you.
The change was sudden. Like a thief it snuck into the house in the thick blackness of night and stole the glue that held us together.
In the thin grey morning light I could not find you. A stranger looked at me through your sleep drunken eyes. He wore your fur but did not speak or act like you. I didn't like him.
With this man I stood before the skeleton of our house that you and I had built. I searched his eyes for you and saw he too didn't like me.
The glowing warmth inside me is growing faint like a star that is burning out. I don't know where you are but I love you.
magic of being
A face, an expression, a posture -- one small person can make such a difference to any background. In the most barren, sterile or boring places the human form and all its connotations of warmth, identity and life adds something that little else can. Most of the time I think we're all in our own mind and world. An absent minded gaze or a small movement when we think nobody is watching can betray us and show what goes on beneath the surface. I love those moments that show up the vulnerability and honesty that is at the core of each and everyone of us. In a way it is calming and reassuring to know that we're all made of the same stuff even if more often than not most of us try to cover up our weaknesses and imperfections.
Saxophone man
I think this saxophone player busking on the shopping street in Galway didn't really like being photographed. When I picked up my camera he turned away but the double exposed picture, shot with my Diana II came out quite nicely all the same. I get a real sense of 'having done something wrong' if I take a photo of someone who isn't happy about it. If I went into someone's living room and started taking pictures of them then it would be understandable but if you are in a public place where you're in the public eye anyway, is it really so bad?
