It has always been there
This Creature Of Concrete And Brick,
Of Mud,
Overgrowth,
And Of Twig.
All It Took To Unravel
Was A Random Homecoming
And Rain.
And Neglect
So A Week Or So Later
Would The Surface
Suffice
To Reflect.
Also Dusk
And The Bleaching Of Colour
Still Attractive
But Not To The Lens.
And Delusion,
Disappointment,
Frustration,
But Resolve To Make Something Of It.
Futile Effort,
Rejection,
Resign,
And The Desperate Turning To Black...
A Failure,
A Nudge On,
A Flip,
Then Another.
Until Life Has Been Installed Inside.
It couldn't be brainstormed. It couldn't be planned. It could be created by the spontaneous flow of my desire to give birth to the descendant of an old story concerning some of my first photographic discoveries in my adult, digital period.
Once upon a time, in 2007, I had this soapbox camera that could still capture whatever I was able to compose withing its simple frames. The first photograph that came out of it and found good and many reactions to it was a late February shot of a sunset reflected in a pool of muddy rainwater.
It was not so far from the place where I took this one. It was in the same company. It was under entirely different circumstances.
It was as colorful as the best attempt at color February could have given me around here. A glorious sunset.
Like this one, a snapshot with no plans.
Clearly, though, this one is animated. It now looks as if it can't be without any plans.
It surely has some.
Look at it, not of purpose born, walking with such purpose in its eyes.
Take care!
Yours,
Manol
