Purpose

I can feel it sitting there

In the deep, dark pit of me

My story…or maybe stories

Trying to claw themselves free.

I push them down and down

And still they struggle to get out

Free from the darkness

That has trapped them so long

They fight up and out

Into the light for the first time

A few wobbly steps later

They stand tall, breathe, and live.

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Lavenders in the Breeze

The fragrance of you
In my mind inescapable.
The wind carries you to me,
Lavenders in the breeze.
In an instant transported
Back against your chest
Arms wrapped around
The last time I truly felt
Contentment in who I am.
Left alone, no more lavender,
The dark doubts creep in
Whispering their words once more
You should not be.
But I am.
And I will continue to be
Because one day, once again,
The wind will bring you
Back to me.

The Insult

There are some people, when passed on the street, for whom a single glance seems to be an insult; the photograph then becomes a superinsult, the ultimate insult.

This would define the stature, the physique (and the myth) of the street photographer, the reporter: a bruiser, a brute, someone who can stand up to the insult hurled back at him, heavy and awkward, blind, desensitized.

– Hervé GuibertGhost Image

Ghost Image

It is said that the purpose of a family photograph is to preserve memory, but it creates images that take the place of memory, conceal it, and are a kind of respectable history, unnuanced and interchangeable, passed from one family to the next with the vague hope of leaving a trace for future generations. Not a literary history, but a superficial history.

–  Hervé Guibert

Amusing Ourselves to Death

I came across this quote in a book I was reading recently.

As some psychiatrist once put it, we all build castles in the air. The problems come when we try to live in them.

Neil Postman

While I don’t agree with many of his sentiments in Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business, I can still appreciate the quote.