It's mango season. That gives me a break from photographing pears. It'll be cherries soon, then grapes, followed by a lull of stoned fruit and finally ending in some winter vegetables. The beauty of photographing fruit and the like, especially in B&W, is that one must occupy themselves with form and texture. They are no longer fruit but a flat recording of simple form and texture. Get it right and your skin will crawl with pleasure. And I don't even eat mangoes. Ech!
Friday, November 28, 2014
Of all the pleasures in life, reading comes up there with the best. The act of understanding the words, seeing the context, accumulating information, imagining new experiences is accompanied by the physical action of hold and turning the pages, feeling the weight of the words and being in the place.
One can lose the art of conversation so easily. It's easy to slide into a pattern of introspection. A conversation with a friend, acquaintance, colleague, loved one or passer by provides a refection of ideas, feelings and thoughts that are refreshing, entertaining, meaningful and considerate. Conversations with some individuals can also be distasteful, mean, hurtful and downright crazy.
Knowing the difference is the art of good conversation. Be artful. Spend your time with those who will stand in the shade with you, lean back, look you in the eye and understand.
Two ways, just move forward. Trust me.
That sounds very much like a politician or person of the cloth would say and you all know where that takes us.
I know. I need some organisation, someone to guide me. A sign. Some direction.
I have that already. It's called tomorrow. Mind you, it does concern me a bit that I don't know what's coming, but who does. Plan all you like, people, but you are no better of than the next bloke. We can't determine the future.
As for the sign? I took a picture. That way I can always be reminded of where I was at the time, where I could have come from and a possible pathway to somewhere else.
What did I finally do? Does it matter? Whatever I did got me here and I'm OK with that.
The fishing boat rises and falls on the turbulent blue-black sea. One moment I see it, riding high. The next it is barely visible...
What's it like to be someone else? To be young, thoughtful, blessed With possibilities, most probable, ready For all that life can o...
My thoughts are elsewhere, moving faster than I, with more grace and determination. The thoughts move in the past where a young man ling...