You know when you are moving through the land, your body feels good and step by step the terrain rushes by under your feet and you feel like you could run like this halfway into forever and then you start noticing that you are being chased or followed by something or someone but there isn’t anyone there and you don’t know what or who it is, something or someone that is pulling you from behind, by the neck it seems, making each step increasingly difficult, pushing you down as one foot still moves in front of the other and you start feeling this brick of pain in your chest, tainted by fear but mostly pain, sorrow, and you cannot shake loose from it and you stop, turn around, asking, not immideately seeing any logical answers, start moving again and it or s/he still follows, still keeping a firm grip on your neck, and the trail continues, almost in a straight line it leads away from the cluster of houses and the people occupying them and further towards where there aren’t others, only land and sky that is about to change colours, and—perhaps—what or whoever it is that is following every step you take, weighing you down, by your neck?
For a moment I think I am in a different store, one I have never been in before, in an unknown city. Then I realize I can read the labels. It’s more disappointing than I would have expected.
She kisses me, I kiss her back. There is something not right about this but we keep at it. Perhaps it’s just me, no it can’t be. This should not be happening.
My feet are always wet when I wake up. After rain that is. The tent is rather filthy, I try to convince myself that it isn’t worth cleaning, that I should toss it.
The number of good people around is overwhelming. There is, somehow, nothing that can be done about it.
I remember the photo magazines and the slow pictures of running water and it was like nothing I ever saw before, water certainly didn’t look like this, and I wanted to learn how to do this, how to make images of water looking like something it isn’t.
Later to realise that I much prefer water the way it is.
I wanted lights. They should be in all the available colours, blinking. The tiny store that sold groceries and all sorts of whatever a few hundred meters down the hill had some, after much pondering I bought a set. With paper route money. It did have all the colours; blue, red, white (well), yellow or was it orange? I can’t really remember the colours. Not greens though, don’t think there were any greens. Around each light bulb there was this transparent plastic thing, a bit like a ball and a bit unlike a ball. With a hole in the middle to fit around the bulb. Perhaps it was supposed to immitate a snow flake. And it did blink and at nights when I layed in bed the restless lights in all those different colours were at the same time soothing and stimulating. The latter had an element of away about it, although pointing more inwards than out. Which doesn’t rhyme too well with away. I guess.
That was before.
I spend many hours a day thinking about photography and I can’t say that I’ve come up with a lot of the answers, it seems like the more photographs the more questions pop up and I, I don’t know what I’m doing half of the time but I do feel compelled to keep at it ..