Oddments

In search of story


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Connections: January 3.18

Yesterday I wrote about the Nothings. Old year, new year. What are the lessons? Old camera, new camera. Where are the images? Nothing heard, nothing seen.

Is there a connection? Yes.

I have found that the photograph is what speaks to me. Unchanging, it stares back at me as I stare at it. It’s different from the real thing, which breathes and changes before my eyes and ears. Whatever reality is trying to tell me, its voice is in the photograph. The arrest of time creates the pause in being that allows listening.

Does any of that make sense, dear reader?

I am missing that connection between the photograph and the words. Feeble as they may be, my words often tumble out of the photo rather than my brain. I know I’ve heard something. But now, with no working camera, I am in a mute world because I can’t photograph anything. A few years ago, before my writing mate Tamara taught me about photography and writing, I wouldn’t have understood this connection. But now I depend on it. I am floundering without it.

The icy white beauty outside my window blankets the little world I live in, and I can’t hear it.

 

 

Connections

 

 

 

 


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August

Two years ago I wrote “Clock” as my tribute to August, the month which turns the garden. August turns me too, and with contented anticipation of the cocoon ahead.

This year I decided to join a community of bloggers on a project called “August Break,” created by Susannah Conway. They agree to post a picture a day as a break from writing. Ha, say I. We’re writers: show us a picture and stand back because we WILL write. A picture is a green light every time. Maybe we are just writing in our heads, but we’re writing. We can’t help it; we’re weak that way.

Anyway, I tried to sign up, but the page froze. I took that as a sign from my muse. Not for me, this community of August Breakers.

So I decided to become a Community of One. I will tell the story of my August, one picture at a time, and try to let the pictures speak for themselves.

My pictures will be my countdown, this year’s clock, gently tick-tocking August away into its inevitable September.

Hummingbird with attitude

Hummingbird with attitude