There is a very small difference
between watching, and
This photo has been deleted and restored many times… it’s an accidental shot, as I was removing an ND filter from the front of my lens. I dismissed it quickly, but there’s something about it that keeps drawing me back – such a small slice of Melbourne, and so easily identifiable. In the end, I have concluded that maybe my camera knows more than I do about what’s worth sharing, so I have honoured its decision…
The glass is marked, inside and out, fogging and obscuring. It isn’t clear, and nor is our destination…
The door seemed out of place, an unexpectedly weathered disruption in the regularity of the fence. Like some kind of portal, transporting the traveller to other places, other times…
The cool, clear water reveals an old story underneath: the waves roll in, smash themselves to pieces and disappear, while underneath, the sand remains calm as always, moving so slowly as to appear still. Some of our storylines are small, fast, forgotten, while the deeper parts take longer to tell, but say something more about our character, about where we’ve been, and where we might be going.
Today is for rounded curves, gentle sweeps of a paintbrush making a soft shore, streams, sun, and peace.
A life is a thing of many splinters
sometimes they fit together and we see a bigger picture, jagged lines and chaotic textures aligning to create a whole.
Other times the pieces won’t fit, and all we see are the spaces between the parts that we hold.
Always though, no matter how complete the picture,
we live it together –
with people we love, people we meet, people we brush past in the street or glimpse as we ride into the belly of the city.
We are all part of the jagged, clumsy, patched-up thing, finding and losing pieces of ourselves and then finding them all over again.