Nothing is real.

I think therefore I am. Sounds good. Not so with photographs. We might confuse the real thing with the image. Looking at the real thing isn't the same as looking at the photograph. When we look at an image we sense the reality but we see the frame which is the boundary of that reality. Our thinking is limited by what we see. Reality involves a different level of interaction. Being there is not the same as seeing it on a print. Look at the photo as a small window into your own thoughts. Then, when you think of the image in that way you won't loose sense of your own reality.

The lament

I'll see this life out before I consider any other possibilities. The shadows creep in but hide little from me. This place is my tombstone. Nothing fancy, no profound inscription of forever love and remembrance. Just me under here, with the tools of trade and the barber as company while we smoke under the blue sky and dream of lust and distant lands, of fortunes buried in a misadventure and some aches and pains accompanying the scars of a sudden stop or a miscalculated path. Customs are gone, along with a nod of the hat and a hand shake. Not even a smile from a pretty girl or an inquisitive look from a child and his dog. Just suspicion and distance.
Its time to close the shop. My time, not theirs. No-one rides any more. Too busy. Too self-conscious. Today I'll walk home.

Beachfront residence

Buying a beachfront residence has its drawbacks. The tide, for one. There's a chance that you could go to bed one night and wake up with water lapping at the end of the bed, more so with the incoming tide of Global Warming. It's an even bet that the tourists might move in with their UV cream and an excessive exposure of skin to both the Sun and an unsuspecting local. Fortunately I chose wisely. My domain is safe from all of that. I'm high enough to avoid even the best (or worse) rise in ocean temperature. The water is full of crocs and other bities so that should keep the tourists off my doorstep. Now I can go to bed each night knowing that when I wake in the morning I can step out into my own back yard, safe in the knowledge that there are no snoopy neighbors watching me feeding the cat in my slippers and little else and I will always have a clear view of the turquoise sea just beyond my boundary.
Tonight I will sleep well.

Sharing space

Our world finishes where others begin; just out of frame. Our attention and central vision provides us with an edited version of reality; a seemingly clear picture with some fuzziness at the edges. With that information gathered and processes, we believe we have a keen grasp of what we are as individuals as well as members of society. It's the clarity that matters, the sharpness of the image and the relevance to our beliefs and memories that matters most. But just beyond our frame is another reality; just as clear and concise, just as intact and demonstrative, just as unique. We cut off the fuzzy bits to focus on the precision yet it's that bleeding into black that brings us together. The essence of our humanity is curiosity and we seek knowledge of other people's worlds. They are strangers in a strange land, our land, intruding into the frame for a moment. Who are you? What do you want? For a moment they exist and become part of the experience of living and the continuity of memory.
And as quickly as they came, they move on, carrying their palpability beyond our vision.
The photograph holds the moment. The taking of the photograph is done in the hope that we can hold the moment, to share with others as well as the intruder. It's a recognition that we both exist and in the same place at the same time.