I went out with my camera, just for a moment or two, and was lost in our tiny little pocket-sized Belgian garden here in the city of Antwerp.
I loved the way photographing the shadows of plants became, very much, about painting with light ...
The word "photography" was created from the Greek roots φωτός (phōtos), genitive of φῶς (phōs), "light"[2] and γραφή (graphé) "representation by means of lines" or "drawing",[3] together meaning "drawing with light".
Source: Wikipedia.
Spring is so very definitely happening. The neighbour's Magnolia has been flowering for a few weeks but Friday was our second 20 celsius day. I am daring to hope that that long grey winter is over. It wasn't particularly tough except for the unrelenting greyness of the days.
My pharmacist told me that 80% of Belgians have a Vitamin D deficiency ...
I'm in Genova in a few weeks and truly looking forward to getting back to that exquisite city full of people I really enjoy spending time with.
Until then, it's all about continuing work on the website, about rewriting my photography workbook, and enjoying the sunshine when it appears.
Donna and Lewis of Ngāti Rānana during blessing of the battlefield soil destined for Wellington
I'm thinking of making another attempt to pursue beauty ...
What is peculiar, even a little bitter, about living for so many years away from the country of my birth, is the slow revelation that I made a large choice a long time ago that did not resemble a large choice at the time; that it has taken years for me to see this; and that this process of retrospective comprehension in fact constitutes a life – is indeed how life is lived. Freud has a wonderful word, ‘afterwardness’, which I need to borrow, even at the cost of kidnapping it from its very different context. To think about home and the departure from home, about not going home and no longer feeling able to go home, is to be filled with a remarkable sense of ‘afterwardness’: it is too late to do anything about it now, and too late to know what should have been done. And that may be all right.
James Wood, from 'On Not Going Home'.
Riding the tram to Miss 10's school today, I found myself wondering how many of us make a point of never buying anything we see advertised ... or is that just me?
I don't have a credit card, a dishwasher, or a clothes dryer either.
Choices we make.
I've been quiet lately, reading a lot of 'stuff'. I feel like I'm preparing for my next leap, something that merges my photography and my passion for writing.
This video had me in tears this morning ... the courage of these guys. Their humour and intelligence in the face of incredible horror ... it wasn't the most uplifting way to begin a day and yet, in another way, it was perfect.
People become stories and stories become understanding ... I've been misusing this promise of content on this blog for a while now. I have an idea for a new project. I only need the strength for it. I think that strength is coming.
I found singer/song writer, Sam Hunt ... He reminds me of stories I've heard of weekends planned by my best old forever friend. I sent her a link. Over on facebook I wrote, A former college football player, who majored in philosophy, lives in Nashville now ... He says things like, 'You can't contrive a great song. Some part of the song has to come from an honest, genuine place'. I like his music ... this was the one that grabbed me. Made me think of Fiona and Barry.
And miss them.
Sharon Olds said something beautiful about sometimes thinking of her poems as instructions for how to put the world back together if it were destroyed.
From Amy Heppel's interview, with Paul Winner, from the Paris Review where she said so much that was wise and beautiful.
I was introduced to the story of Lisa Bonchek Adams via an exquisite article by Zeynep Tufekci, titled Make the Most of Your Day. They wrote ...
Her love of life and courage was a lesson to me, everyday. She sent out these tweets almost daily, her lessons of life and death.
Make the most of this day. Whatever that means to you, whatever you can do, no matter how small it seems.
Find a bit of beauty in the world today. Share it. If you can't find it, create it. Some days this may be hard to do. Persevere.
Saturday, I reread this book and realised all over again, how beautifully written it is while remaining a tale so powerfully written that it destroys me each and every time I read it. Mornings in Jenin, by Susan Abulhawa. It's worth seeking out.
Meanwhile, I'm enjoying this song by Andrew Belle as I listen to music here ... reading and writing, taking notes, enjoying the weekend ... at last.