Nothing much

Today I did nothing.
Tomorrow I will do more of nothing.
There will always be time to do nothing.
I will never run out of nothing to do.
I'm good at doing nothing.
Nothing keeps all things apart.
Nothing is the space between somethings
When I run out of nothing to do I'll start all over again.
Everyone else can do something.
Nothing beats doing nothing.

New Horizons 11

Each day I'm astounded by the way the world presents itself. That which is magnified is brutal and worrying, broadcast through the media to inform us of how ugly we can get.
Within the bounds of my horizon I keep a close watch on how pleasant the world is, though the lens of the camera, my eye and my perceptions.
While the rest of the world might be rotting and crumbling, it is possible to be optimistic as long as the horizon is no further away that the reach of my sight.

The empty dance

Just now I'm doing nothing
While I dance upon the hill
And the shadows of the past 
Are never standing still
I can wait for moments silence
Which comes among the blast
Of the thunder of my thoughts
That drift among the past
Where was I when the hail fell
What train of actions then
When I alone could tell
What the endless pain would bend
That I will live this moment over
And the torment will inflame
The scars that mark the cover
And only I can blame
Myself, the thoughts alone
Are tattooed to my brain
To be seen as autochrome
For as long as I remain
Awake or sleep it matters not
For nothing is a myth
In which no memory is forgot
If nothing, this it it.
Restless, relentless, haunting ghosts
That interrupt the peace
And I am the singular host
Of nothing's angry feast.

A sense of scale

If you ever get indulged in your own self-importance, take a walk on a long beach. If there was ever a place to know who would loose if it were the individual against nature, its a strip of sand separating safe ground from devastation, being watched over by a lonely cloud.

The Dress

A dress is to be worn
To adorn the form beneath
To please, to be discrete
To colour that which 
No display can show 
In full exposure not
Delay what we know
As beauty to behold
Before and after
Be unfold.

LEARNING TO SEE - again. PART 5

“The Pictures are there, and you just take them” – Robert Capa

Street photography has become a genre. That is to say, street photographers have a particular way of seeing what is before them. There interests are on the randomness of civilisation.

I'm not sure where street photography begins and ends. Does it start at the doorway to the street, from within a dwelling or is it essential that the photographer has firmly planted himself among the heaving throng that is the passing parade of life on the street? 
Maybe it's none of these. Maybe it is the attitude that is taken at the time, the interest shown in the ways of the pedestrian and the structures they frequent.
And what of the content? Is it the people that are of prime interest, or the walls that confine their space or the activities and inter-actions? 
Whatever it is, we are fascinated by it. More so, we are fascinated by the photographs and the photographers who have made this genre their passion, livelihood or pass time.

I hold no grace with those who declare a method or a set of rules for doing this thing called 'Street Photography'. That is not to say others might abide by such rigors and obtain perfectly honest results. My preference is for a 'seat of the pants' approach in which the element of surprise is paramount, to expect nothing and anything at any time, to be ready without anticipation or expectation. 
There is also an egalitarian approach employed. Everything and everyone has equal 'rights' to be the subject of the frame. There is some contention here. Some might say the respect for privacy should rule. Neglecting one's privacy might get me a punch in the mouth from some but I'm not aware of who that might be. I take my chances.
Disgression seems to be important. Sneaky, even. Voyieristic definitely, curious, a sense of humour and an equal sense of drama go nicely together. 
The streets are filled with pleasures and pathos, individuals going about their day, often without any sign of the turmoil, tragedy, joy or contentment that might lay within. It's not possible to capture these inner thoughts. It is only possible to capture the laws of physics and engineering that created the place and the result of human behaviour that brought it all together.

Someone else

What's it like to be someone else?
To be young, thoughtful, blessed
With possibilities, most probable, ready
For all that life can offer, briefly, openly.

Where to from here, destiny betrays?
No signs of yellow bricks or guiding lights
Each step, each breath is new and fresh
Delicately placed among the stones

There is always someone else to gaze upon
From here the landscape loses its horizon
And I want to lead the way to safer ground
But she will find her own and be someone else