Sunday, October 17, 2010


Some nights I fall asleep immediately, but awake prematurely an hour or two later. Other nights I crawl into bed with a book assuming heavy eyelids will shortly follow, but the clock rhythmically ticks towards dawn, sleep never befriending me.   I open a window to stir the stale air and see my reflection.  On the way to the kitchen my outline moves across the French door.  Not fully awake, not completely clear.  I start to document my image as a way to pass the time, and perhaps find a clue hidden behind my eyes.  Soon I'm drawn to the shadows in my house, the altered shapes of chairs and lamps in the inky night.  My attention wanders further into the stillness outside my door.  I find myself veiled in magnificent indigo.  Whatever worry was nestled in my mind dissipates under the endless sky.  I’m lost in the camera, calmly taking photographs. 

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